Abstruseness
by MEOW-I'm-A-Dog
Summary: After an assassination attempt on Edward Elric's life, Roy Mustang suspects foul play in the military and gets far more than he or Ed bargained for after a threat to the military and their lives is unraveled. No Yaoi. Some Parental Roy/Ed.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my imagination.**

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><p><strong>Author's Note: because I hate it when authors put a long AN in the beginning of the story, look for mine at the bottom. Enjoy**! (Ratings for language-No yaoi.)

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

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><p>The lack of murmurings and papers shuffling was something that Roy Mustang cherished during stressful days such as these. Even with the absence of almost half his staff that normally occupied the large office, the room felt like it was filled with hundreds of people. It was stuffy and uncomfortable and all Mustang wanted to do was get out.<p>

But that wasn't an option. Rather, it wasn't a wise option. With Lieutenant Hawkeye sitting in her small yet right sized desk in her corner, the logical thing to do would be to obediently listen to her.

Funny though, it wasn't actually Hawkeye who put Roy in this position of looking over countless documents. No, it was himself. Hawkeye was just there as motivation; finish or face the wrath of the lieutenant who will make sure you finish.

Roy suddenly sighed loudly and rubbed his face with the hand that didn't hold his pen, catching the attention of Riza, who merely looked up for less then a second and continued on with her own work.

He's been here, sitting on this exact chair, in this exact position for about six hours straight. His neck was stiff, his shoulders ached, and his fingers were growing red from the amount of writing he had to do. After Brigadier General Anthony Mackerel – a man of high status who held a reputation for his intimidation and ruthlessness – came in yesterday to _kindly_patronize, mock and insult him, Mustang was understandably in a foul mood.

The man had openly insulted his staff and his own conduct, describing Mustang as "indolent and lacking the commanding skills a colonel should have." Mustang had to physically restrain himself from scorching the man alive while he stood and was forced to listen to all the bullshit that came out of the idiot's mouth.

And to top it all off – not even allowing Roy to bask in the fact that the Brigadier General was finally leaving – Mackerel ended his rant with the gift of paperwork, claiming that it would "sharped him up." When the door finally closed, announcing the man's exit, Roy didn't even spare the large yellow envelope a second glance. He simply slipped on his trusty white gloves and exited the building whole, reaching the large, empty and spacious training grounds in the back of the building, and vented his anger out.

And vented and vented and vented and _vented_.

By the time he returned to his office, his fingers were trembling with pain and his forehead was covered with a thin sheet of sweat. Hawkeye held her tongue when she saw the image of blazing fury dancing in his eyes and pretended to not to have noticed – or heard; The window in the office was open and had a nice view of the back training grounds – his outburst. As did the Fuery, Havoc, Falman, and Breda; the others who were present at the time.

His outbursts were not surprising, but they were never easy afterward.

It always left Roy in a particularly sour mood that made him both snappy and impatient – two traits that were very bed when chosen to describe him.

When he finally did decide to look through the files Mackerel had left for him, he growled at the papers and cursed his luck. These wouldn't take just hours to complete; they would take days.

Roy glanced at the wall clock that was on the wall across from him and groaned inwardly. It was a quarter past five now. He began these papers at nine in the morning when he first came in. Almost seven hours. _Seven_hours.

It was a good thing he started them today, though. If he would have went through them yesterday when he first initially received them, Roy would've stayed up through out the night just reading them.

The best part of all this, Roy thought sarcastically as he scanned the dozens of folders and papers that littered his desk, was that this research held little to no importance to him.

They were absolute crap. Just some bullshit typed on paper and printed with the official military stamp in order for it to look legitimate. His orders were to read the files about the budget cuts, tax increases, and average salaries and to file them in the correct order, prove the mathematics were accurate and compare them with the other military's frugality.

Bullshit, in other words.

The fact that he, the Flame _Alchemist_, had to complete work that was fit for an accountant when his specialty was combat, just proved that Mackerel only wanted to piss off Roy and flaunt his status as a Brigadier General in his face.

The sound of Havoc clearing his throat brought him back from his musings. He looked up and saw the blond man extending a hand that held a steaming plastic cup. "Coffee, Boss?"

Mustang grunted his thanks but didn't take the cup from the other man who –_ did he just come it or was he here the whole time?_- stood in front of him. Havoc simply placed the cup on the only part of the desk that wasn't drowning with paper and took a seat on his desk.

"No lunch, Havoc?" Mustang suddenly asked after a moment of silence. Usually by this time, his staff including himself would go down to the military cafeteria and feast in the sad attempt the military called gourmet food. But today, Mustang decided to sacrifice his only time of relaxation to finish Mackerel's assignment, along with Hawkeye who volunteered to keep the Colonel company – "I'd rather there be someone to watch you in case you doze off, sir." – and now, apparently Havoc as well.

"Nah," Havoc answered, pulling out a cigarette and then putting it away when Riza gave him a somber look. "Thought I could lend a hand."

Without looking up, Mustang replied, "Go back and eat, I don't need help."

"I don't need food, so I guess I have no other option but to stay here."

The Colonel sighed and looked up. Havoc was again standing on the other side of his desk and had that stupid, goofy look on his face that he wore when he thinks he's being clever. Roy smirked and handed him a folder that he planned to do himself but decided against a moment before. As expected, that stupid, goofy face completely dropped from Jean's face when he read the first contents of the paper.

"Better get started," Mustang said smoothly, the smirk still firmly set on his face. Jean let out a tiny moan and took his seat on one of the empty desks.

The only sounds now were pencils scratching on paper and the occasional grunt from Mustang. He wasn't even able to enjoy those tiny minutes of silence before the door to the spacious room burst open.

"Roy! How's it going?"

Mustang groaned loudly and dropped his head on the desk, making a small thud. "Why does everything happen to me..." He moaned, his voice muffled from the papers.

Maes laughed and greeted the other two officers – with lovely pictures of his wife and daughter, mind you – before making his way to the Colonel. Mustang picked up his head and rubbed his eyes, "What do you want, Hughes. I'm busy."

"Ah yes, I've heard," Hughes replied. "Someone's been a busy boy, eh? But don't worry, I have something that would defiantly put you in a good mood."

Roy then realized that his friend was holding a large plastic bag and his shoulders sagged in sweet relief when he was able to smell the sweet aroma that was coming from it.

"My beautiful Gracia made some apple pie for the lot of you! Be grateful, it's still warm," Hughes chirped, holding the white box that held the pie.

Roy watched him, masking his face with an unemotional look to cover up the fact that he was _dying for a piece of that heaven-sent pie_, as he cut the pie into four even pieces and passed them to each occupant of the room. Havoc's face brightened ten fold after the first bite and thanked Hughes vigorously and Riza also extended her thanks when she received her piece.

Maes pulled up a chair and set it beside Roy, handing him his plate and taking the pen from his hand. "Take a break, Roy," he said, replacing the pen with a fork. "It won't hurt to relax a bit."

"Maybe not for you, but for me, it's going to hurt like a bitch," Roy muttered, inspecting the piece of dessert that he stabbed with his fork. "If I hold it off even for a little, that means I'm going to have to stay here longer."

"Ouch. How long have you been here doing these?" Hughes asked, gesturing with a nod from his head.

"Hours. I don't even know anymore. It's ridiculous!"

"I've heard. Walking down the halls, the word is is that Roy Mustang is cooped up in his office doing homework like a good little nerd boy."

Mustang pulled a face and Hughes held up his hands defensively, "Hey, hey! Don't look at me like that – that's what other people are saying."

Roy shoved a piece of the pastry into his mouth and muttered, "being compared to a child, just great. Just what I need."

"Aw, cheer up, Roy-Boy! By the time you finish, you'll feel like a new man and I'll take you out for a drink; my treat."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to do all this."

"And I thank the great lord everyday for that."

Roy scoffed, "So what are you still doing here? In Eastern Headquarters, I mean."

"Eh..." Hughes shrugged. "It's getting pretty hectic in Central. I needed to get away for a while."

"Hectic? Hectic how?"

"Some low ranked officer died a couple days ago and the arrangement for his replacement got a little complicated."

"Death?"

"Food poisoning."

"Ah." Roy chewed slowly and then said, "Did they get a replacement for him?"

"Some guy called Harold Daniels is expected to take over. He's supposedly an alchemist but didn't sign up to be a State Alchemist; said he just wanted to be a regular soldier."

"Idiot."

"Exactly. But he'll defiantly get the spot."

"Who was he? The officer who died?"

"Him?" Hughes looked to the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts. "Uh, Michael Dorr – no Morris. Michael Morris. He worked under that General . . . what's his name?" He began snapping his fingers to – Roy mused – spark a thought. "What's his name, what's his name, what's his name – Oh! Napoleon!"

"General Arthur Napoleon?" Hawkeye quipped from her corner.

Maes pointed at her like a child pointing at a toy that they so desperately

wanted, "That's the one! Yes! Arthur Napoleon. You heard of him, right Roy."

Mustang nodded slowly, "General Arthur Napoleon. Lead three different platoons in the Ishvalan war and was raised from a Lieutenant Colonel to a General for completely incinerating a large city. Not a fun man to be friends with – trust me."

"Yeah, well, he's the reason why everything's crazy in Central. The higher ups want someone reliable to serve under him and so far they're debating with either the Daniels fellow or some other guy."

"Morons."

"I know," Hughes chuckled. "But regardless, it's not my problem so I'm glad I don't have to deal with it."

Roy glanced down at his now empty plate, debating whether he should ask for another piece or not. Deciding against it, he put the plate down and grabbed his pen.

"Is there a deadline for that or do you just want to get it over with?" Hughes suddenly asked.

The other man shook his head, "No, but Mackerel made it quite clear that he wanted it as early as possible and to save myself from hearing that bastard talk, I'm trying to get it done by Friday."

"But...today's Thursday."

"Precisely," he mumbled.

"Roy, that's crazy! There's no way you'll be able to finish..."

" –You don't think I know that?" Roy snapped. "I know my limits, Hughes and if I – "

The shrill sound of the phone ringing cut the Colonel off. Mustang and Hughes both looked down at the desk telephone in curiosity. "Hasn't rung all day..." Roy mumbled after the second ring.

When it rang a third time – and when Riza showed no indication of getting up and answering it herself – Roy reached down and picked it up, placing it on his ear and said, "Colonel Roy Mustang speaking."

_"...Colonel? Oh this is your number..."_

The voice sounded familiar but just to be sure, he asked, "Who is this?"

_"Huh? Oh, it's Ed. Uh...sir."_

"Fullmetal?" Hughes head perked up when he heard the name, but Roy ignored him and continued. "What is it? You're supposed to be on a break. There should be no reason for you to be calling."

When there was no response, Mustang said, his voice high with authority, "Fullmetal, I asked you a question."

_"Huh? Shit, right. Uh...I wanted to ask you a … a question."_

Mustang's brow furrowed at the slow responses Edward was giving him. He shrugged when Hughes mouthed to him, "what's wrong?"

"And what question would that be?" He asked.

Through the other end, he clearly heard the sound of harsh breathing and wondered whether  
>he should be concerned or not.<p>

_"Remember that time, when you gave me … those codes … for when something really bad happens.?"_

"Yes, what about it," he asked impatiently.

_"What was the … that one code for assassinations and all that. I can't remember it..."_  
>Mustang's blood ran cold in an instant. Why would he ask for that code, even if it was just to remember it? Surely it wasn't because...<p>

No. Mustang stopped that train of thought. Remain calm, he told himself. Don't panic.

He cleared his throat and said the necessary codification: "Code Black 814"

He shut his eyes when he heard the sound of chairs scraping against the wooden floor. Opening them, he saw Havoc, Riza, and Hughes all standing and looking dreadfully vigilant and serious – a reflex that was drilled into their minds in order put them on high alert during such a serious situation.  
><em><br>"Oh yeah … that was it. Code Black 814..."_

"Was there a specific reason why you wanted to know?"

Silence. "Fullmetal?"

_"What? Oh right, Code Black 814...I guess."_

Roy gripped the phone tightly and said, "Are you issuing a Code Black 814?"

_"...Huh?"_

He looked up and motioned for his two subordinates to draw closer. When they reached his desk, Mustang loudly asked into the phone, "Fullmetal. Are you or are you not issuing a Code Black 814 for an assassination attempt on you or any other military officer's life – yes or no?"

He could practically feel Hughes' head closing in him as if trying to hear Ed on the other line.

_"...Yes."_

With that, Mustang stood up and straightened himself, roughly pushing his chair back and scanning his desk for a blank piece of paper. "Who is it regarding."

_"Uh... for me, I guess."_

The man froze. "Someone tried to assassinate you?"

Everybody's eyebrows shot to the roof at that.

"Sir, what's going on..." Mustang cut Havoc off by raising his hand; he waited to hear Ed's voice.

_"Uh-huh...some guy came in and started attacking me..." _There was a short pause where the only thing Roy heard was a small thud and a rustling of clothing._ "Shit...stupid phone." _

Riza handed her superior officer a sheet of paper and he snatched it from her hand, scribbling down basic information that he received from the conversation so far.

"Are you hurt anywhere," he started, beginning with the simplest yet most important questions. His heart was pounding at an unreasonably fast rate but he was able to pull off the calm facade easily.  
><em>"I dunno...my hand hurts a little...I don't think," <em>pause. _"I'm cold..."_

"Where are you?" Mustang demanded over the phone, ignoring Hughes anxious eyes that begged for answers. When Mustang received no answer from the other line, he repeated more forcefully, "Fullmetal, where are you?"

_"At the dorms,"_came the small reply.

Cradling the phone with one hand and the pen with the other, Mustang scratched the address of Ed's military dorm's address and room number and handed it to Havoc, saying, "Go get a medical team and tell them to meet us here, then go to the hospital and tell them to prepare a room for us immediately, understand?"

Havoc sharply saluted, "Sir!" He took the paper and sped off like a dog chasing after a ball, Mustang grimly mused.

Hughes took this opportunity to ask, "Roy, what the hell is going on?"

The man in question shook his head dreadfully, "someone tried to kill Edward."

"I've already figured as much," Maes exclaimed annoyingly. "But what happened exactly?"

"That's what _I'm _trying to figure out," the Colonel snapped. He turned his attention back to Ed, "Fullmetal."

There was no response and the knot in Mustangs stomach tightened ten fold. "Fullmetal, answer me."

_"Mmm...?"_

"I want you to stay where you are and don't move at all." He signaled to Riza to get him his coat and she obediently complied. Hughes also began buttoning his own coat, but Roy said nothing of it.

_"I can do that..."_

"Is there anyone else there with you? Alphonse?" Mustang froze from his own words. "Fullmetal, where is Alphonse?"

That's right. How could he forget? Edward and Alphonse were practically inseparable; wherever one went, the other was surely to follow. If that was correct, than where was Alphonse at the time his brother was being attacked?

_"Al...? He...he...crap, I don't know. I don't know." _The boy's voice was hinting hysterics. _"Where is he? I – I can't... shit, I can't remember! Colonel, w-where's Al?"_

"Calm down, Fullmetal. I'm sure he'll turn up." His coat in his hand, he reassured the boy slowly, "We'll be there shortly, so I need you to be patient, okay? Stay where you are and don't move, remember? Can you do that for me, Edward?"

His answer was so low it was practically a whisper but the Colonel heard him nonetheless,_ "Okay."_

"Good, we'll be there in fifteen minutes at most."

_"Okay but ... Don't take long 'cause I'm really sleepy."_

"Stay awake, kid. Don't sleep, okay?"

_"But,"_ Ed whined. _"I'm tired..."_

"Don't sleep, Fullmetal! That's an order. Are you going to disobey a direct order from your superior officer?" Roy snapped annoyingly.

_"Mm fine," _The boy mumbled through the phone. _"Bastard..."_

He allowed a small smile before ending with, "Fifteen minutes."

He slammed the phone harshly and threw on his coat, marching towards the door with both Hughes and Hawkeye at his tail. When they reached the end of the gateway for the Headquarters, Mustang was already pulling on his white ignition gloves and Hawkeye sped forward to prepare the car in advance.

Hughes leaned forward during their rushed walking and whispered harshly, "Roy, now would be a good time to tell me what the hell is going on!"

Mustang ignored him for the time being – much to Maes' irritation – but when the car came to view with Hawkeye driving it, he started, "I don't know what's going on except that someone tried to kill Fullmetal; apparently an assassination attempt."

Both men quickly jumped into the car and Riza drove off.

"He didn't say anything else? Was he hurt?" Hughes asked.

He shrugged,"most likely. He didn't specifically say he was hurt but but it was obvious he was in some sort of pain." Adjusting his safety belt, he leaned forward and told Hawkeye the address of their destination. She nodded and made the necessary turn.

Mustang leaned back, folding his arms and sighed. This was not going to be a good day.

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><p>The ride over was much less nerve wrecking than Mustang had expected it to be. Then again, when you're lost deep in your thoughts, all other surroundings are blocked out so you wouldn't really know what to feel.<p>

He did, however, notice the rapid tapping of Hughes' foot all throughout the car ride. The man looked like a worrisome mess. Mustang always knew that the father had a sweet spot for the Elric Brothers – practically all of his subordinates did, as well – so it was understandable why he was so distressed.

When the car finally pulled over to a stop, Mustang got out of the car before the vehicle came to a full pause. He stifled a gasp when he took in the appearance of the once was military dorm building.

Rods and walls of alchemical concrete were pointing in all directions and pieces of the large building were either missing or transmuted into a sort of pillar like structure or a completely unidentifiable object. The fact that the mutilated building was still standing was a surprise on it's own.

"My God," breathed Hughes from behind Mustang. He and Riza had just came out of the car and were craning their necks up to take in the whole quality of the destruction. "Did Edward do all this?" Riza asked, pulling out her gun for safety precautions.

"Apparently," Roy murmured, observing the crowd that was now arriving at the scene as well. "Let's go."

Hawkeye and Hughes followed, each with a gun in hand, while Mustang led, his white gloves pulled up tightly around his wrist. Entering the building and climbing up the stairs – dodging a few concrete blocks laying on the floor here and there – and reached the third floor.

They didn't even need to find the room number to Ed and Al's dorm; it was pretty obvious which one was theirs since there was on room where the front door was completely blown off and all that was left was a large, gaping hole.

"Over here," Roy barked, rounding the door with Hawkeye on the other side and Hughes right behind him. He leaned his back against the wall and carefully snaked his head around the gap that once held a door, checking to see if anyone else was inside.

He nodded, signaling that his perimeter was clear and Hawkeye provided the same answer for her side. Again, Mustang nodded, "All right, our objective is to retrieve Edward Elric. Any other person, I want them restrained and if they resist, shoot on sight. Understood?"

They nodded in union and pushed their way inside.

The room was never a large one; never one for fancy decor or excessive furniture. The area had only four rooms: a quaint sized living room, one bedroom with two small beds, a kitchen across from the living room and a bathroom next to the bedroom.

So it wasn't really that startling that they found Edward Elric slumped against the wall opposite the door frame, with his chest covered in glistening crimson blood and his only flesh arm pinned above the boy's head with a stoned spear that went through is small forearm, the moment they stepped into the largest room.

But when Ed picked up his head, slowly recognizing each person in the room and then raising his automail arm with obvious struggle to give a shaky wave, that's when Colonel Roy Mustang knew that today was defiantly not going to be a good day at all.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: 1027/11-**** I honestly don't know where this story idea came from; it was just a random day and this random idea hit me. Anyways, the question about updates is that this story will update spontaneously. I already have the outline for the whole thing - I know how the plot will evolve, I know all the OC characters and their roles, I know how it will end, ****etc... - so this story will defiantly end eventually (as in I highly doubt I will abandon it). This next chapter will defiantly be out by the next week, but other than that, I honestly don't know how long it will take for the next _next_ chapter. Just an FYI, this is my first FMA fic, so bear with me. I've written for Naruto and also for DBZ (in my old account, that is) but this is my first time for FMA. _AS FOR WHAT TIME PERIOD THIS: The story revolves around the manga/Brotherhood (because I don't really understand the original anime that well) and it takes place before Hughes (SPOILERS) dies (Hughes is awesome and deserves to be alive in my stories.) and during the search for the Philosopher's Stone. Ed and Al would be about 14-15 and 13-14 and just a reminder, there will be no yaoi in this story! No Yaoi. Please don't ask about it!_**

**Review please! Reviews are very motivational.**

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong> "Dog Days."

-_Two days earlier..._


	2. Dog Days

**Disclaimer: Nothing regarding FMA is mine but in my head everything regarding FMA is mine because I'm insane..**

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><p><strong>AN- Wow, I got this out a week later exactly. Hopefully that will continue (Don't expect much..)**

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><p><strong>Dog Days<strong>

_Two days earlier..._

"Manipulative lying son of a bitch," Edward Elric muttered all too loudly as he stomped into his dorm, throwing his infamous red coat on the floor without a care. "Asshole thinks he's so smart? Stupid bastard needs an ass kicking, that's what he needs. Smirking jerk needs a punch a face, too."

"Brother..." Alphonse sighed, walking behind his older brother and picking up after him. "At least hang up your coat."

"It's all his fault anyway!" Ed exclaimed bitterly, throughing himself on the sofa.

"It's his fault your coat's on the floor?"

"Wha – no, Al! Haven't you been listining to a word I've been saying?" Ed asked.

"I've been trying not to, actually..." The soul-bound armor breathed. From their trip from Eastern Headquarters to their dorm, the oldest Elric brother had been spitting curses left and right and fuming about his superior officer.

Although, Al didn't really understand why his brother was angry. He expected him to be happy, joyous, even grateful! But no, it was never that simple for Ed. He always chose the alternative that never made any sense.

The Colonel had called for them earlier today – after they arrived back to the East so that Ed could give his report two days before – to discuss their progress so far. After almost thirty minutes of Ed's ranting about idiotic minors and clueless alchemists, Mustang decided to give them a break.

"It's not a break, Al!" Ed reminded him furiously. "It's house arrest! Suspension! Detention! It's like being grounded!"

Maybe Ed was exaggerating a bit too much, but he did have a point, Al thought. Mustang had ordered the boys to remain in the East, in their dorms, for a weeks time. He had stated that he wanted to keep an eye on them – Ed had scoffed at that – because their travelings had been too excessive.

Ed sputtered after hearing that. "Excessive? _Excessive?_ Have you gone senile? How else do you expect us to find a way to get our bodies back? By sitting on our asses and doing nothing."

"I expect you," Mustang had countered. "To do as you are told. Traveling non stop, for _three months_ without even contacting me or anyone else for that matter, is not what we do here, Fullmetal. What we _do _do here is listen to and follow orders, listen to and follow commands and – and this is the most important one – listen to and follow _me. _Is that understood?"

The whole cab ride back, Ed had decided to recite Mustang's lecture in a mocking tone that was much squeakier than the Colonel's actual voice.

But Alphonse was sure that a part of Ed knew that what they did was wrong and that their punishment was understandable. It was just that, they really didn't have time to contact Mustang and Ed always forgot what his office's telephone number was. They did try to call once, but a bakery store owner picked up instead.

But their actions were totally justified, nonetheless! They had a very potent lead on the Philosopher's stone and it was mandatory for them to check it out. Enough snooping around told them that a town at the border that separated East and South had a cave that sported the actual mythical red stone.

Traveling there was easy; it was finding the actual town was what was the most difficult. The problem was, they didn't know what the name of the town was. All they knew was that it was on the Southern/Eastern border and that it was small and surrounded by mining caves.

They had to jump from one town to the next – getting lost, picking fights, avoiding storms, chasing false leads – until they finally found the town only to discover that the stone was a fake all along. Some mediocre alchemist was producing red stones and was spreading lies that they were the_ actual_ red stones in order to gain more tourist attention. Typical.

"It's not my fault this world is filled with dumbasses!" Edward moaned. "But according to that bastard, it somehow is, because everything is _my fault_! Just like how the train derail was _my_ fault, and the extra paperwork was _my _fault and his missing gloves were _my –"_

"Brother, they _were_ your fault," Al reminded him, masking the humor in his tone with full seriousness.

"That's besides the point!" Edward snapped, ruffling his hair in an angry fit. "We have more important things to do than to just sit here and do _nothing!_"

Al, always the rational and logical one, waited until his brother finished his ranting to speak up, "We can always just do more research. The library isn't that far from here..."

"I suppose," Ed grumbled, swinging himself off the couch and stretching. "Go pick up more books when you leave to get dinner; I'm going to take a nap."

The suit of armor giggled when he pictured his older brother sprawled on a bed, his tummy exposed while his mouth hung open letting out soft snore. "Okay brother, I'll be here if you need anything."

Breda looked to Falman who looked to Fuery who looked to Havoc. Havoc jumped slightly when he noticed all eyes were on him. He backed away slowly and held up his hands, "Whoa, okay, wait a second!"

"Please!" Fuery begged. "Just go and ask."

"No, Uh-uh. No way, man." Havoc replied, shaking his hands.

"Come on, Jean," Breda said. "Besides, you owe us for that one time we all had to pay for your drinks."

"But this is different," Jean replied desperately. "This is me, walking to my _death._"

"Don't exaggerate it, it's not that bad," Falman said reassuringly, although failing miserably.

"If it's 'not that bad', then why don't any of _you_ go ask?" He asked suspiciously.

"Because I value my life!" Fuery squeaked, quickly ducking behind Breda afterward.

The four men were situated in a lonely table in the mess hall, surrounded by babbles and arguments and gibberish and chatters from their fellow brothers-in-arm. The debate between the four men, as silly as it sounded, revolved around the question of who will ask Mustang whether they can get an early leave today or not.

"You don't think I don't?" Jean hissed, making the smaller man shrink even more than he already had. "What if he says no, huh? He'll torch me alive!"

"You know he won't," Breda scoffed. "The worst he can do is leave you with 3rd degree burns, if you're lucky."

Havoc pulled a face that easily read, "I'm not amused", and Breda laughed out loud. "Kidding, kidding! But seriously, go ask. Nothing you could say can get you out of it so you might just get it over with."

"And what exactly would Lieutenant Havoc be 'getting over'?" A new, feminine voice asked, causing all four men to flinch.

Jean looked up shyly at Lieutenant Hawkeye, who had just walked by with a tray at hand, and smiled sheepishly, "That depends on how much you've heard."

The woman's face didn't even twitch in the slightest, "I heard enough to know that the Colonel won't allow it."

Breda and Havoc groaned while Falman held his head in defeat and Fuery dramatically moaned in distress. Riza raised an elegant blonde eyebrow at her immature colleagues, "And what, might I ask, is so important that you want to skip work?"

Breda looked to Falman, who looked to Fuery who looked to Havoc who grumbled curses under his breathe when he noticed the six pairs of eyes that now rested on him.

"It's not like we're playing hooky or anything, it's just that – well, see, we just think we deserve a break."

"A break?"

"Yeah," Falman quipped lowly, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "We've been working our asses off for the past week and -"

"And it's not like we're asking for a whole day off," the black haired man added. "The day's pretty much half over; just want a half day...sorta."

Breda nodded, "Besides, the kid got a whole _week_ off, so we're justified to at least half a day."

Havoc let out a sigh of relief and sagged in his seat, happy that he didn't have to explain everything and that his comrades were there to support him – even if they originally planned to throw him, head first into Mustang.

"Those are all very valid points," Hawkeye observed. "But you fail to realize that the day is _not _half over; you still have – at least – another six hours and also, Edward was not given a break, he was given a punishment that the Colonel dubbed as a break in order to avoid an outburst. So are you all implying that you want a punishment like him?"

Nobody answered but it was obvious what their answer was. Fuery was almost pressured to scream out, "Yes! Give me a punishment if it means I can go home!" but silenced himself when he remembered that Hawkeye asked a rhetorical question.

"Have a heart, Lieutenant," Breda begged. "I'm sure you know where we're coming from, the Colonel works you half to death!" Then he added silently, "even if you do the same to him in return."

Riza frowned. These people were embarrassing, to say the least. She still questioned herself everyday how they were able to get a career in the military with their frail-boned attitudes. But in the end she gave in and sighed, "Fine, I'll give you the authorization for an early leave and pass it along to the Colonel since today is a slow day. But, I expect you all here an hour earlier tomorrow morning."

"Really?" They all beamed simultaneously. The woman nodded and the men scrambled off the table in a mix of joyous desperation while yelling their thanks on the way out. Riza narrowed her eyes slightly as the large doors closed behind them and thought, _'what the hell did I just allow?'_

"So what you're telling me is, you let _all_ of my subordinates out on early leave because you felt that they were being _overworked_?"

"No," Hawkeye answered. "I am telling you that I let four out of six of your subordinates leave because they believed they were being overworked. I simply agreed with them and allowed their absence, sir."

Mustang blinked. "Please tell me that you also see how ridiculous this is."

"I do not," she said simply.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, do you –"

"With all due respect, Colonel," she started, cutting him off completely. "They've been working at a flawless rate for two weeks now and have not voiced a complaint once, even when you gave Edward his own break –"

"Punishment."

" – Regardless, sir. You've been unreasonably blind to your underlings well-beings."

Roy held a staring contest with her for about ten more seonds before sitting back on his chair and sighing, "Is that all?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you're dismissed," he said, waving her off and turning his body around with the help of the rotating chair.

"And my punishment...?"

"Hmm, no punishment," he hummed.

Hawkeye allowed a smile before straightening herself and saluting, "Thank you, sir."

While she made her way back to her desk, she suddenly remembered a call that she received earlier that she had to deliver, "By the way, Colonel, General Perry said he wanted to have a word with you at 1600 hours."

"I'll remember that," he murmured off handily, twirling his pen between his fingers in a childish matter. Riza rolled her eyes and cleared her throat loudly, catching her superior's attention who turned himself around to face her. She lifted an arm and pointed at the small, round, wall clock that was hanging directly behind her and waited for Mustang's response.

"Shit!" He cursed, organizing the stacks of paper were cluttering the surface of his desk. "Why didn't you tell me sooner that he was coming?" He barked.

"Because you were not here," she replied, turning around and sitting on her desk.

Roy said nothing in return – there was nothing more he _could_ say, the Lieutenant was right, after all – and continued to push all the papers down into the least filled drawer. As he dreaded, the phone gave out a shrill ring and Hawkeye answered it from her desk.

"Colonel Roy Mustang's office," He heard her say in a respective tone. "Hello, General … Yes, he's here, sir … Of course, sir … Not at all, come right in."

After wiping the wooden surface clean with his sleeve, Mustang sat down on his desk and leaned back. He cleared his throat a few times and smoothed his hair with one hand, preparing himself for the encounter.

General Kenneth Perry was a large, gruff man who does not live up to his stature. Although his size has intimidated fellow soldiers and enemies alike, he was – in reality – a genuinely sympathetic and selfless man; always putting the safety of others before him. He's a very old man who should have been retired by now but insisted that he still had work to in the Amestris Military, claiming that he still has a duty to accomplish.

A knock on the door signaled his arrival and the man let himself in soon after. Just as the door swung open, Mustang stood up straight as a stick and saluted the man sharply.

"General Perry, sir!"

A large hand waved him off, "At ease, lad. No need for formalities at the moment; this is just a social visit, is all."

General Perry seemed to grow larger each time Roy saw him. His curly, black beard was as ungroomed as always and his piercing green eyes were igniting with life. It was amazing that a man of his age still had that youthful fire in his eyes despite all the stress and tenseness he went through everyday. His blue coat – that was struggling to fit his large figure – was littered with stripes, badges, stars and metals to further prove that he deserved all the respect that he received.

The man towered over Roy, making the Colonel feel so small and vulnerable. He could practically taste the cigars from the heavy stench that was radiating from the large elder.

"How have you been, sir?" Roy began. "I've heard that they've been posting you all over Amestris."

Perry folded his arms behind his back, "Yes, yes. You've heard correctly. I've been very busy, yes, but that's not why I came; I'm here to see you, Flame Alchemist."

Mustang allowed a sincere smile and bowed his head slightly, "I'm honored, sir. Please, have a seat." He gestured with his hand at the lone chair that sat in front of his desk and Perry obliged.

"I've been hearing things," Perry said. "Been hearing a great deal about you, specifically."

Mustang raised an eyebrow, earning an amused chuckle from Perry, "Take it easy, lad. It's nothing of that sorts. Rather, I've been hearing marvelous things about all these wonderful accomplishments you've achieved and since I was traveling through the East, I thought I would come and meet the man himself."

"Please, sir. You give me too much credit. I assure you that all those rumors are exaggerated."

"Son, you don't give yourself _enough_ credit," Perry laughed. "You shouldn't be too hard on yourself. It's rare finding soldiers as dedicated and devoted as you are; it's a real treat to meet people as fine as yourself."

"I'm flattered, sir, really. But if anyone deserves all this attention and praise, it would be yourself. Forty years serving Amestris and still going is an inspiration to us all."

Perry smiled, showing his teeth, "Now, now, Mustang. You're making me sound old!"

"Nonsense, sir. You don't look a day over thirty."

The man roared with laughter. The two men continued to converse for a lengthy hour, before the suddenly stood up, gripping his knees while he rose. "I must be off then."

Mustang stood up as well, meeting the General's eyes.

"It seems I have stayed longer than I intended. Regardless, I enjoyed your company very much; it was a real treat." Perry continued. He reached over and squeezed Mustang's shoulder in a friendly gesture, "You do your country proud, son. Continue with your duty of serving with the excellence you posses."

Mustang saluted the man, who returned the gesture, and watched as the he walked out. "One more thing," Perry said, stopping mid reach for the door knob. "Brigadier General Mackerel – have you heard of him? – is making his way around Eastern Headquarters for some kind of evaluation."

"Evaluation? How so?"

"From what I hear, he's been roaming each of the main headquarters in Amestris for the past year, inspecting the officers and soldiers to be sure they're 'top-notch'. Rubbish is what it is. And he hasn't been lenient in the slightest, so prepare yourself for him tomorrow. "

"Tomorrow?"

Perry nodded, "yes, I presume he should be arriving tomorrow evening, at least."

Mustang sighed. Great. Tomorrow is going to be _hell. _"I appreciate your help, sir. Thank you."

"Yes, yes. Always glad to be of some help." Perry smiled. "I'm off, Lieutenant Hawkeye, Colonel Mustang, it was great seeing you all and hopefully I'll see you some more."

Hawkeye and himself both saluted and watched the man exit. When the door shut with a small click, Mustang turned to his Lieutenant and said, "clear out my schedule for tomorrow evening, redirect all my phone calls and run a background check on a Brigadier General Mackerel; find out everything there is to know about him."

"Already on it, sir." Hawkeye said.

If Al had a mouth and fingers, he would be chewing on them nervously by now. Instead, he stood over his older brother, who was seated on a desk scribbling about, and watched him anxiously.

"Brother..." he began hesitantly. "Maybe you should go to sleep or..."

Ed stopped his writing and sighed, " I told you, Al, I'm not tired. I need to finish this and the more you keep breathing down my neck the more time I waste!"

"But you've been working on that all day! You really do need to take a break."

"I've already got a full week of breaks to look forward to, what more do I want," Ed grumbled sarcastically, reaching over for another book that probably weighed more than him.

"Please, Brother. I know you're tired, I can see it in your eyes. You need to rest more."

"Wasn't my nap earlier enough?"

"You only slept for two hours!"

"It was a refreshing two hours," Ed exclaimed, scanning the book for more information.

Al let out a noise of frustration. How can someone be _this _stubborn? As soon as they returned from the meeting with Mustang, Ed had gone straight to bed. Yet, Alphonse wasn't able to bask in the idea that his brother was finally getting some decent rest because two hours later, he was back up. He refused Al's suggestion of more sleep and went straight to his desk in the bedroom, researching more on the Philosopher's Stone.

Al stole a glance outside the window and sighed when he saw how dark it was. "Fine," he surrendered. "Stay up. I'll just be sitting outside."

"M'kay," Ed mumbled, not even looking up to acknowledge the fact that his brother had already left.

The moment Havoc entered the office – an hour earlier, as promised – he regretted that decision almost immediately and was tempted to walk right out. It seemed the others had the same thought when all three followed Havoc into their workplace.

Right when all four of the men stepped inside, Mustang gave them simple instructions to sit down and pretend you give a damn. But those instructions interpreted meant, "Go to your desk and don't ask questions and if you talk I will burn you alive."

It was only after each of them were seated that Hawkeye explained to them what was going on. Apparently, some high ranked officer was coming in to evaluate Mustang and his team sometime later on. That said, each one of them began tidying up their own desks to make themselves look presentable.

It was probably the first time he's seen ever seen the Colonel's desk _not_ flooded with paper, Jean mused inwardly, suppressing a chuckle. This must be something serious, to have the Colonel in such a tense state.

The office was so quite it was getting uncomfortable. Hawkeye was walking back and forth, each time with a larger stack of paper than before, and handing it to Mustang. All the while, Mustang was reading the papers and gathering as much information as possible from them.

So far from what he's collected, Brigadier General Anthony Mackerel was not a man to be tempered with. He was known to rarely show mercy and he always got his way – a pure stubborn man. Earlier today, before the day officially started, Roy had gone around Headquarters asking officers who already had been evaluated what he should be expecting.

Their response was both vague and clear – Expect the unexpected.

True to Perry's word, Mackerel did indeed arrive in the evening, although really late in the evening; there was an hour left before everyone usually left the office.

The General just waltzed in without knocking or giving any prior signal that he was coming in, much to Mustang's irritation.

Everybody stood when the door opened and saluted. Mackerel didn't even acknowledge the other soldiers and marched towards Mustang in a mix of curiosity and determination.

"Brigadier General Mackerel," Mustang welcomed.

"Mustang, the man of the hour! Just the person I was looking for," Mackerel boomed loudly.

Mustang extended a hand for a shake but the General ignored it and continued, "I told myself, 'Hey, since I'm in Eastern Headquarters, why don't I stop by the Flame Alchemist and see what all the fuss is about with him', and what do you know? Here I am at last! Look at you, boy. So young with such a high rank! Others would kill to have your position – and I mean that literally! Ha! You know what I'm talking about!"

Mustang's eye twitched ever so slightly and he groaned mentally. Those reports didn't mention that he was so loud and annoying. All ready, he knew he was _not _going to enjoy this meeting.

"It's an honor meeting you, Brigadier General," Mustang said with a forced smile. Damn, he felt like he was using that line a little too much. It takes a lot out of him to be respectful to people who don't deserve it.

"I've been hearing that all day," Mackerel said, mostly to himself. "But forget about all this idle chit chat crap; tell me Mustang, you're a man who cares about their position in this military, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"So then, please do tell me, why to me, it seems you don't give a damn at all?"

Roy almost sputtered, "E-Excuse me?" That certainly was _not_ what he expected to hear,

"Oh, no, don't take it the wrong way," Mackerel said in obvious fake defense. "People have been saying how much you devote yourself to your work and how dedicated you are to Amestris and all, and I'm not doubting them at all. The thing is, the way I see things, is that you take things a little too lightly."

"I don't think I understand..." Mustang trailed off.

"Let me put it this way," Mackerel said, pulling back a chair harshly – making the feet scratch the wooden floor loudly – and seating himself. The man leaned onto the desk and folded his hands, a position that looked like he was trying to tell the Colonel a juicy secret. "I know how people only have great things to say about you, but I can see your rebellious side. Just because I'm rarely in Eastern, doesn't mean I don't know things. A little piece of information, I served sometime in the Investigations Department, so I know my stuff."

Yes, he knew that already, thanks to the hours of researching.

"You've been pretty lazy after the Ishvalan phenomenon," The General said in a low voice that still carried itself as loud. "I've noticed that you couldn't complete all your missions, your reports have been almost mediocre and your staff have been proving to be amateurish in their skills."

Roy ignored the five sets of glares that were most certainly burning holes in the back of Mackerel's jacket and forced a smile, "While I do confess that my lack of professionalism is evident every so often, I must assure you that my subordinates have been nothing but reliable." He said so slowly, quickly thinking of the appropriate words that would make him sound proficient.

"Of course, I'm sure," the man said with a hint of sarcasm that Roy picked up. "But unfortunately, that's only half right – and by half right I mean the part of your professionalism being evident – however, not trying to point fingers or anything but … oh I'll just let you have a look yourself."

That was when he noticed that Mackerel was carrying a large suitcase, big enough to fit a six pairs of shoes. The man placed it on Mustang's desk – _if he so much as scratched or even dented my desk, so help me God I will incinerate him whole – _and began pulling out stacks of papers.

"Here we go," Mackerel said, pulling out a thin folder and handing it to Mustang who took it without hesitation. "If any of those are incorrect, please, let me know." He heard the General say while he was flipping through the files.

He wanted to groan out loud, cradle his head in misery, bang his forehead on the desk – Anything! These reports were so outdated and old but so embarrassingly true. It had the report of when Breda and Havoc got into a full blown brawl in the mess hall over a woman and ended up hurting two officers in the process. That happened about four years ago and had cost Mustang a few apologies, hospital bills and lectures.

The next page had a list of all of Edward's property damage and a whole page dedicated to complaints towards the kid. Well, that's just not fair.

He turned to the next page. Falman caught failing to arrive at mandatory meetings, Fuery [accidentally] breaking military equipment, Hawkeye repeatedly threatening other officers with her gun (well, that was a given), it was all there, much to Mustang's shame.

When he looked up to see Mackerel looking at him expectantly with a smug look on his face, "Well? Am I wrong?"

Mustang sighed and put the folder down, "No. These are all true but they have all been accounted for and dealt with –"

"Spare me, Mustang, I've heard it all before. I didn't come here to hear your excuses. Do you want to know why I did, though?"

_No. _"Yes."

"To make sure it wouldn't happen again," Mackerel whispered playfully in mock suspense. "I need proof that you won't disappoint us again with your prescient habits."

Roy's eyes twitched again, this time more noticeable but this time he didn't care if Mackerel saw it or not. "I can guarantee you that it won't, sir."

"I find that hard to believe already, Mustang," the General exclaimed loudly, catching everybody's attention. "It seems one of your subordinates failed to arrive today. Tell me, where is the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"He was given a break; some time off."

"You gave him a vacation?"

"A break, sir."

"Break, vacation! Is there really any difference between those two words? They have the same meaning, correct? Enlighten me as to why you would give him a vacation when he has been gone for – what was it? - three whole months. Go on. Humor me."

His right arm, reflexively, was moving towards his coat pocket and to his gloves. He was just itching to watch that disgusting look melt off of Mackerel's face. Where the hell did he get nerve to say this crap? Sure, he was a Brigadier General and held a higher rank than him but Mustang was an alchemist – he had the advantage. If it ever came down to it, he could destroy the man with one snap. One snap is all it took to show this idiot who _really _had the higher ground.

But no. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. Mustang grabbed his right arm and stopped it mid motion and regained his composure, "those reasons are my own reasons. I am entitled to discipline my subordinates in anyway I see fit. I fail to see any wrong doings."

It was Mackerel's eye's turn to twitch, but he blinked and smiled, "Oh, I think the Flame Alchemist is turning soft!"

Was this bastard openly mocking _him?_ Roy bit down on his tongue. Hard.

"We have no place for soft soldiers, Mustang," Mackerel said, his voice gravely serious. "You're indolence will not be tolerated anymore. The higher ups have been complaining that you seem to be lacking the commanding skills a colonel is obligated to have and I'm starting to see it."

The man stood up, again obnoxiously pushing back the chair and said in a dangerous tone, "In this place, you either rise to glory or fall to worthlessness. There is no in between, so start deciding where you want to be, Mustang, and start deciding soon."

The two men kept eye contact for a moment longer before Mackerel snorted and turned around. Roy glared at the man's back and was debating whether he should just let his hands do the talking for him.

"Oh! I almost forgot," Mackerel said, returning back to Roy with a large, yellow envelope he pulled from his briefcase. He threw the envelope onto the desk and turned around again, "This should be a helpful head start. A few minor tasks that would sharpen you up. Try not to disappoint us this time."

With that, the door was slammed shut and the room was filled with a suffocating silence. Roy ignored the exchange of uncomfortable glances from his subordinates and took in a deep breath. His teeth gritted, he marched towards the door without a word. Breda made a move to say something but Hawkeye stopped him by loudly clearing her throat and shaking her head.

"Just let him be," she murmured and the silent message was received by all.

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><p><strong><span>Author's Note 112/11 - Ta-da! Eh, yes I know, a boring chapter - but hey, what do you expect? To make it up, the next chapter is the one with all the action so look forward to that. In other news, any Naruto fans? Cause I must say, the manga is getting so bad ass that it's fucking awesome! Now if only they'd stop with the fillers and get on with the real episodes. On a side note, I need a BETA and well, I don't know how to get one o.O If anyone can enlighten me on the procedure on getting a good BETA, please PM me. It would be really helpful :)**

**Oh crap, how can I forget! You're reviews were all lovely and the positive feedback was _so_ amazing. I literally smiled when I read them, so thank you for those and continue on!**

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>"The Uninvited Guest"

_Out of all the thoughts running through Ed's head at the moment, the one that stood out the most was that The Colonel was defiantly going to blame him for all the destruction, regardless of all the facts that pointed that it was _not _his fault._


	3. The Uninvited Guest

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Shocker.**

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><p><strong>The Uninvited Guest<strong>

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><p>Ed had to admit, the worst thing about seeing the Truth – other than the fact that it cost him and arm and a leg – was that he knew the secrets of alchemy. Some people might think he's crazy for thinking such a thing, but the thing was, he knew <em>all of it,<em> and knowing everything can be very frustrating.

When he tried to learn something new about alchemy, he already knew it beforehand. The knowledge was already in brain. Every book he read was never really helpful when it came to alchemy. The one thing that the Truth failed to show him was the specifics on the Philosopher's Stone, though.

Ed groaned and slammed shut another large book and moved it to the pile of "read" books. He reached over and grabbed another book from the "not read" pile and slammed it on the desk. The boy sighed as he opened the book and began scanning over the contents.

He didn't need to look at a watch to know that it was already six o'clock at night. By this time, Al would always leave to go pick up some dinner for him because he was always too occupied to do it himself.

The days were so much shorter this time of the year, Ed mused, unknowingly distracting himself from his reading. It was only November and yet, the air was beginning to chill during the mornings and nights and the sun set late early in the evening. Al always fretted whenever he would leave the dorms without his coat, because of the changes in the weather.

"You'll catch a nasty cold like that," Al would chime.

"It's not even that cold, Al!" Ed whined.

"I don't need to feel it to know it's cold, Brother. I can see your breath!" Al would finish, ending the argument since Ed can never object to that.

His breaths would come out in little clouds in the mornings when he took his early strolls around the neighborhood every day after breakfast. He also began to notice the quick changes of pigment of the leaves and the numerous amount of them on the ground. East City was known for it's unpredictable showers, so the ground was always littered with puddles of rain water.

Ed blinked when he noticed himself about to turn the page. He cursed and set his eyes back to the beginning when he realized that he didn't take in any information. But why bother? He probably already knew it all, anyways.

Being cooped up in these stuffy dorms never did much for Ed's mood. It left him feeling imprisoned – which he was, thanks to that bastard! - and that was a feeling that didn't sit well with Edward Elric.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and read on. Then he flipped to the next page, then the next, then the next. All this information about soul binding yet _no _information on how to reverse it. Why discover something if you can't even undo it! Stupid, prehistoric alchemists.

He slammed the large book shut and sighed loudly. Maybe he should get some sleep. He's been at this same pace for the past week, not to mention how hectic the earlier three months of his long personal mission was. It was written all over his face how terribly exhausted he was. Bags sagged under his eyes, slow and heavy blinks, hair that looks like it hasn't been touched in years – he has all the symptoms that point to the fact that he was toiling himself.

But he always brushed it off when the thought of his well-being crossed his mind. It just simply wasn't that important to care about.

Deciding that the disgusting atmosphere of the room should be dealt with, Ed hopped off the armchair, and crossed the room to close the window.

But he froze midway.

He felt _it. _That prickling sensation in the back of his neck. The tightening grip on his stomach. The tickling feel on his spine.

It was the same feeling that pointed that something – _something –_ horrible was about to happen very soon. The same feeling that drove his throat dry and his heart speeding. That _same _feeling he had during his failed human transmutation; the same feeling when he entered Tucker's house to discover the disaster the man created.

Ed froze. The sound of floorboards creaking from the front door met his ears. Although faint, he heard them loud and clear.

Someone was just outside his door and it was definitelynot Al.

And then, as if time had somehow slowed down, Ed watched as the door burst from it's hinges, sending it flying and then smacking onto the opposite wall.

Ed whipped his head around ferociously and glared at the door frame where his guest most likely was standing. "I don't know if anyone told you, but we knock before we enter someone's place," Ed spat. "People might mistake that for rudeness."

A tall silhouette emerged from the frame of the door, clouded by dust, making it difficult to get a good look at the person's facial features. "Edward Elric, I presume? The Fullmetal Alchemist?" The man drawled in a voice that rolled over with every syllable. Not a voice he recognized, Ed mentally noted.

"Who wants to know?" Ed growled, pulling off his gloves. This defiantly wasn't a social call. He passed a small glance towards the door and grimaced. They were _so _going to charge him for that.

"You'll find out soon enough," The man said. "Actually, Ha! You won't. 'Cause, by that time, you'll already be dead!"

When the man took a step forward, Ed took a cautionary step back. His appearance alone was intimidating. He wore a long, black trench coat that shrouded his whole figure. His face was covered with messy black bangs that shadowed his eyes, but his malevolent grin was enough to tell that this man was not one to be dealt with lightly.

"Dead, huh? Nah, I don't think so," Ed replied calmly. He clapped his hands and slapped his automail arm, transmuting it into an impressive blade.

"The rumors are true! No circle!" The man roared with laughter. "Tell me, boy. What's your secret?"

Ed shot him a wicked grin, "If I tell you, then I would have to kill you."

The other tossed his head back, "Ha! That's the spirit, kid! Confidence before death! I like that!" He suddenly changed and became deathly somber, "Too bad for you, confidence will only get you killed."

Then he charged, without warning, at Edward. The boy jumped back, just barely missing what could have been a lethal punch, and slapped his hands together then sending it to the floor. Radiant blue sparks erupted, and stone hands rose from the ground and grabbed his assailant's neck, forcing him to stop.

"So much for me dying," Ed sneered. "Now, how 'bout you go ahead and tell me what the hell crawled up your ass to make you think you can take me on?"

"Not only confident," the man managed, obvious struggle in his voice from the way his head was positioned. "But cocky, too. A dangerous combination."

To Edward's surprise, the man simply grabbed the stone hand that was holding his neck with his whole palm and it suddenly crumbled to the ground. He grabbed his neck and leaned his head back, earning a tiny crack, and rolled his head around mockingly.

Ed's eyes narrowed and the man gave him a gleeful smile, "What's with the look, kiddo? Don't be jealous, I'm not as special as you, see?" He faced his palms toward Ed, showing a bizarre scar in the shape of a transmutation circle on his hand.

"You're an alchemist," Ed breathed. "Crap...I don't have time to deal with this." He mumbled to himself.

"An alchemist, indeed! A great one, too. My name was known to make people shudder all around Amestris. Even the military were wary of me, Ha!"

"And your name is...?" Ed trailed off, gesturing with his hands for him to continue.

"Nice try, brat! But you know as well as I do that a good assassin never reveals their real name."

"Yeah, right. As if..." Ed blinked, then openly gaped. "Wait, did you say _assassin? _As in someone hired you to _kill_ me?"

"That _is_ what the definition of an assassin is, yes."

"But – but! I haven't...Why the hell would someone want to kill me?"

The other man shrugged, "Beats me. I just do my job and get paid, one hell of a living if you ask me. The money is _great._"

"Where the hell would anyone even find an assassin in the first place? Is there like an assassination hotline or something – "

"You talk too much, kid, so let me stop you there." He took a step forward and Ed took a step back.

"This is how it works. Someone wants you dead, I answer for them. They give me a name, I find that person. When I find you, I kill you. That's how we're gonna do this, 'kay? So stop your complaining and let's get this over with."

Ed straightened and scoffed. "If you think I'm just gonna lay back and let you kill me, you're sadly mistaken." He bent his knees and pushed his sword forward. This was the absolutely last thing he expected to happen to him. An assassin? _Really_? Who would want him dead? He was the Fullmetal Alchemist, everybody loved him! ...Okay maybe not _everybody_, but still!

Luckily for him, though, this guy looked like a slob. He was spilling pieces of information here and there and if he was lucky enough – just a little bit lucky – then maybe he can get something out of him that could save his ass.

All he needed was luck.

Which was something he lacked severely.

"I'm glad, kid! Ain't no fun killing someone who won't fight back. So how about you give me a show, eh?" With that, the man reached for the ground. He transmuted the tiled floors into a long spear that almost reached his head. He twirled it around once – twice and then pointed it at Ed's direction. "Shall we?"

Ed swallowed down his anxiety – literally – and prepared himself. He kept his eyes on the man as he leaped forward with his stone spear, and then raised his automail arm (blade) and swiftly blocked the first strike.

When stone and metal collided, it made a deafening _clank_ sound. Ed pushed him back and charged him, swiping his blade yet missing considerably. The man was faster than he anticipated, and swifter, too. He almost looked like he was having fun, the bastard.

Another _clank _sounded, and the assassin pushed onto Ed, having the advantage strength wise. Ed grunted as he felt himself being pushed back. He then dropped to his knees and kicked the man's leg's from underneath him, sending him staggering to the ground.

"Damn, you little pest!" He snarled, picking himself up and lunging his spear forward. Ed only had time to bend himself backwards, letting the weapon miss him by an inch. When he pulled himself back straight, he was met with a punch that sent him tumbling down.

Giving the other no satisfaction for landing a blow on him, Ed hurriedly clapped and slapped his hands down, transmuting pillars that rose from the ground and pushed the assassin back. One pillar actually hit him under the chin, and the man staggered back, wiping the blood that trickled from the corner of his lip.

"I must admit," He began. He kept his eye on Ed as the boy picked himself up. "The military trains their State Alchemists well, but not as good as me."

Ed nursed his bruised cheek with his flesh hand and snorted, "The military did nothing but give me a name, the rest I got from years of training." He blinked and then remembered his early thoughts. "You're not so bad yourself, considering. So what, you train with a teacher or a pack of wolves or something? Where'd you get those skills from?" He needed to get this guy to start talking. Information was gold during this time.

"Me? Ha! Nobody trained me; nobody _could _train me! They were all scared to even come near me, thought I would kill them if they said the wrong thing, which I would have."

"So, you just picked up a book and taught yourself? Hard to believe you can even read since you can't even knock on a door."

"Don't get all smart ass with me, boy! I've killed people twice your age and even half your age, so don't get wise with me," The man sneered.

Okay, so he's short tempered and insane. That's a good mix. Also, a huge ego. Great. This would _defiantly_ work to his advantage. "Hey, I'm just kidding," Ed defended, faking innocence. "I just figured that you would have your own teacher or something like that. I've heard that all the greatest alchemists had their own personal teachers." Great, now he was complimenting his killer. What else could could go wrong today?

The man snorted, "My teacher was my old man and he died before he could teach me anything useful. I learned the rest as I went along, then I came around a certain someone who finished my lessons." The man blinked, then hissed, "Talking time is over, kid. You're costing me money and time, I have other clients to attend to."

Well, so much for that plan. Maybe he should take manipulation classes from Mustang; he looks like an expert at these kind of things, unlike him. "You should at least give me your name," Ed said. When he saw the mans amused look, he added quickly, "I mean, I _am _going to die, right? So maybe, as a last request, you should tell me your name or at least something I can call you by?"

The man was silent for a moment. He was probably thinking of an alias to give Ed, or just about something completely different since he looked like the kind of person that would get distracted easily.

"Dan," He said, finally. "You can call me Dan, or Mr. Executioner. Yeah, I like the sound of that. Mr. Executioner, or Head Chopper, or Brain Smasher." He sent Ed a wicked smile, and the boy shuddered to himself, "I'll just stick with Dan, thanks."

"Suit yourself, brat." Dan gleefully said. He tightened his grip on he spear and threw it at Ed's direction.

Ed had time to let out a hurried curse as he dropped himself on all fours. He looked up when he heard the sound of a transmutation reaction occurring and almost blanched when he saw Dan's new weapon. It was a twisted rod – it's features resembling the spirals of a telephone cord – with a sharpened, pointed tip, crafted to kill.

He stood up and rubbed his hands together, "Fine, you want to play? Let's play."

Ed clapped and slammed his hands onto the ground. The tile of the floor flipped themselves upward and skidded towards Dan's direction.

The assassin skillfully sidestepped each of the tiles. When the last tile passed him, he went on the attack and threw his fine detailed weapon at the boy.

Ed quickly dropped on all fours and transmuted a wide enough wall to stop the twisted rod mid throw.

"H-Holy shit!" Ed exclaimed when he saw the rod pierce through his wall. A few inches more and that would have been the end of him. He could not afford to be careless here.

"Stop making a mess and just die already!" He heard the man holler.

But when he heard those words an idea struck him. A great a idea! A little cowardly, maybe, but an idea that could probably save his life.

Every good assassin has the same weakness, and if Ed couldn't get rid of this guy with brute strength alone, that he would just use this "Dan"'s weakness against him.

So Ed backed away from the wall that blocked his view and let out a large breath, and stepped away from the wall to face Dan. He looked around the small room with his eyes, calculating – scheming.

Finally, Ed began. He dropped to his knees, clapping and then slamming his hands to the ground. Blue sparks emerged, and then pillars rose from the ground, reaching the ceiling and even going through it. Rows of pillars were transmuted, each making their way towards Dan.

All the assassin had to do was take a big step to the left in order to avoid it. When he took that step, Ed quickly stood up and slapped his hands to the wall. Long pillars were transmuted and repeated the first transmutation's actions. These stone pillars, however, extended onto the opposite walls, puncturing them.

"Your aim is off, brat. This is a joke!" Dan said bemusedly. He chose this time to completely show off his own power. "Let me show you the skills of a _real _alchemist!" He pushed the palm of his hands on the surface of the wall beside him, earning the sparks of a transmutation. A row of large, solid, stone spikes began to generate and – at the same time – extended and shot outward and into Ed's direction.

Ed yelped and threw himself onto the floor ungracefully. The spikes managed to keep extending after missing their target and stab the wall on the other side, and continue to push it's way toward the other wall.

"Don't get comfy yet!" Dan roared, this time dropping on one knee so that he can push both hands on the floor. Spikes from the same size began erupting upward and toward the younger alchemist's way.

Ed scampered off the floor and ran to safety on the other side. Panting, he winced when he saw one the spikes pierce through a window, causing the glass to sprinkle onto the floor, creating a dreadfully beautiful sound. Out of all the thoughts running through Ed's head at the moment, the one that stood out the most was that Mustang was defiantly going to blame him for all the destruction, regardless of all the facts that pointed that it was _not _his fault.

Well, not all of it.

The sounds of walls cracking went unheard to the assassin as he stood up and glared at the boy on the other said. "That is _it._ I'm through playing cat and mouse with you! Time to end it..."

"Yes," Ed said cheerfully. "Let's end it, shall we? Allow me to do the honors." With a smile that screamed his fake innocence, Ed clapped his hands and smacked them on the floor. After a spark of blue light had been emitted, Dan watched with confused curiosity as two pillars rose from the ground and shot diagonally towards an opposite wall.

Withing contact, the walls shook and pieces fell off until the whole thing finally gave away and crumbled to the ground. Then fell the ceiling, collapsing to the floor in pieces. Ed shielded his head with his automail arm as his flesh hand covered his mouth and nose, protecting him from the dust. The rubble's force pushed Ed to his knees, but he was too busy watching Dan with amusement to bother with it.

A new breeze pushed it's way through the destroyed room and Ed noted that now he had an even _better _view of East City. The wall that was placed to separate outside from outside was now reduced to pieces. Ed winced when he realized that a lecture about destroying property from Mustang _and _Hughes was sure to follow if he survived this.

A cough redirected Ed's thoughts and he turned to see the 'Dan' character pick himself up.

The assassin's face picked up an expression of horror and rage. His eyes darted at the scene as his mind began replaying the earlier events that could have caused this.

Of course, _of course!_ The brat was toying with him the whole time! Making him slowly destroy and weaken the walls until it would all collapse, causing a large – _shit!_

Edward laughed out loud at Dan's expression. "I thought assassin's were supposed to be stealthy and quite. The 'Silent Killer', was it? You know how many people will notice all this damage? What kind of killer makes such a loud assassination attempt? You're pathetic! People will be running up to see what's going on and you'll be discovered and caught in no time!"

The man growled like a rabid dog at the boy and clenched his fists. "You _shut your mouth, boy! _I tried to be merciful to you and tried to sympathetic since you were just a kid, but I guess that was the wrong decision. If you want to end this quickly, then fine, let's do just that."

What happened next would probably be one of the most confusing seconds of Edward's life. In one moment he was standing erect and tall and the next, he was sitting on the floor, slouched over and pinned to the wall behind him.

It only took him half a second to realize that the coppery smell in the air was the scent of blood. Another second to realize it was _his_ blood, precisely. He could hear Dan saying something, but he couldn't comprehend anything the man was saying exactly. All outside noise was drowned out by the loud beating of his heart that was banging in his ears.

Ed blinked once, then twice. He felt so _heavy _but he didn't know why. He tried to push himself upright but something near his stomach was preventing him of that.

He looked up slowly when Dan's words were getting louder. The man was on his knees with his hands firmly on the ground (_When did he get into that position?)._ He was shrouded in dust and rubble, and his coat was ripped in noticeable areas. Unfortunately for Ed, it looked like his little stunt did nothing to harm him. Dan was saying something, Ed realized. His mouth was moving but his voice was muffled – impossible to understand.

The man said something, and then a spark burst from his hands and Ed felt like something was being _tugged from inside of him._ His stomach was _on fire_ and he felt like he was on the verge of throwing up, but instead he let out a violent cough that shook his whole body. Liquid slipped from the corners of his mouth and he knew immediately what it was.

Slowly, he let his head dip to see where the painful sensation was coming from and when he did see it, he wished he hadn't – because that's when the pain hit him full force. There was blood (_red, red blood. Red, sticky hot blood. Blood, blood, blood. Oh god, so much bloodbloodbloodblood) _staining every part of his shirt, and it wasn't stopping! The blood was still pouring out, and he could _feel _it pouring out of him, like his life was slowly being spilled.

He had to stop it before he died – _move your hand, dammit! Lift! Lift! - _but he felt like his whole body was frozen. He couldn't move a muscle, he was completely immobile and defenseless. He was bleeding to death and yet he couldn't even _fucking _move.

"...messy...still...late..." Oh right, this guy was still here. Ed looked up and glowered at Dan, who was talking to himself rather than him.

"B-Bastard..." Ed managed to muster out. Damn, it felt like he yelled rather than whispered and the pain in his stomach decided to rise a few notches with that action.

"Aw, don't be a sore loser now, kiddo," The man smirked, dusting himself off and smoothing out the sleeves of his coat. He stepped over a few blocks of rubble and walked towards Ed. He put his hands on his waist and leaned forward, his face only inches away from Ed's. "Don't worry, the pain will be gone once you bleed out and you'll be dead in a few minutes."

"Don't...patronize me, a-asshole." Ed growled. Screw the pain, he had a few things he wanted to say to this bastard. "Scared t'kill a k-kid, huh? What's wrong … t'cowardly to … finish m-me off?"

"Don't tempt me. I have no problem with snapping your neck and shutting you up once and for all." He smiled and shrugged and straightened himself. "I'm already late as it is, and you caused a goddamn scene so shitloads of cops are gonna start coming. Besides, you'll be dead in a minute or two. As your punishment for being a cocky little brat, I'll let you spend the rest of your time alive alone."

He turned around, walking away, and laughed, "Enjoy the rest of your life, kid!"

Fury like no other began bubbling inside of Ed. "_Don't you fucking walk away from me!" _He yelled with all his strength, ignoring the searing pain that now flowed throughout his abdominal. "Stay back and fight, you bastard! I'm not done yet!" His hands shaking, he managed to life them and clap. Tremulously, before Dan could register what he was doing, Ed touched the floor. A narrow pole shot from the ground, aiming at the assassin.

Dan turned and dodged it, leaving the pole to stab the flab of his coat, and reach to the ceiling. Dan froze and quickly grabbed his coat. "You put a _hole _in my coat?"

Panting, Ed leaned back and sent him a crooked smile. "...Oops."

Dan grunted, "Fine. Be like that." He grabbed the pole and broke off a piece from it and went down on one knee, face to face with Ed. "That clapping is _really _getting annoying." He grabbed Ed's flesh arm, raised it above the boy's head and pressed it against the wall.

Ed's eyes grew to the size of platters when he realized what the man was about to do. He tried to kick the man away but all he was able to accomplish was to squirm – he had absolutely no strength left from the transmutation. "S-Stop! Are you out of your mind! Stop!"

Too late. The rod, firmly grasped in Dan's hand, was rammed _through_ Ed's forearm and _through _the wall behind it. Ed bit down on his lip to the point that it bled and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to hold in a scream, but only to fail and shout out a few vulgar statements.

He opened his eyes to a world of doubles with his head humming with numbness. He gasped out his breathes and managed to watch as Dan slowly faded from his view. He squeezed his eyes shut once more and when he opened them, he was left in silence.

His breathes came out shaky and quick and eyes were beginning to grow harder and harder to keep open. His body felt like it was a hundred times it's normal weight and five times weaker that usual.

But the fact that he was alone now was the most painful injury.

Ed – it was probably the blood loss talking here, but – was beginning to wish that Dan hadn't left him. He felt so alone, and the fact that he was going to die alone was scary all by itself. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, though. He was supposed to die from old age! – or at least _after _Al got his body back so that Ed would be able to hold his brother's real hand during his final hours.

Wait.

Why the _hell _was he thinking about dying?

That shouldn't even be an idea! He should be thinking about surviving, not dying. He was Edward Elric, and Elrics never gave up!

Ed sucked in a large breath, ignoring the searing hot pain in his middle, and raised his automail arm above his head. It was much harder to do than he expected. He tried to extend the automail up to the flesh hand without looking at the gruesome position his hand was in because he knew that if he saw it, he's probably just pass out. He could already feel the blood sliding down his arm and splashing onto his cheek, he didn't want to see how bad it _really _was.

Feeling with his automail (ie: waiting for his flesh hand to feel the touch of the cold metal fingers), Ed was blindly able to put his palms together. When they touched, he let his automail hand fall so that he could catch his breath. At least one good thing came out of this, Ed thought to himself.

The phone wasn't that faraway from him. It was just laying on the floor, surrounded by the debris.

It was too far from him to just reach out and grab the thing, but it was close enough for him to make a small transmutation that would push the whole thing towards him – which is what he managed to do. The phone was pushed to him thanks to a small raised transmuted platform.

When the phone was resting against his thigh, Ed let out a small moan. _Shit, _his stomach was killing him. Literally, killing him. He rested his automail hand on the wound and grunted from the cold touching his flesh that was exposed from the penetration. But what did hit him? Crap, why couldn't he remember?

It was probably one of that idiot's stupid spikes. Those things were popping up from everywhere before, and that Dan guy had a crazed look in his eyes. At least he managed to do some damage to him. Tearing his coat was so sneaky, he never would have expected it. The look on his face was priceless.

Wait, crap, what was he doing? Why was he thinking about such trivial things at a time like this! He was supposed to do something, something important right now but, damn, what was it? Think, idiot! Remember.

He shook his head to clear his mind but instantly regretted it afterward. The world around him was spinning and his head was _pounding. _But dammit, he was supposed to be doing something right now! What was it?

Ed let his head droop slightly and tried to relax, to calm his racing heart and pulsing wounds. He looked at the telephone resting against his thigh with a kind of dreadful fascination until his brain starting functioning again and remembered why he brought the phone here in the first place. He punched in the first number he could think of and held the phone to his ear and listened to the soothing sound of the beeping until it was interrupted by a smooth and strict voice.

"_Colonel Roy Mustang speaking."_

Not the person he was expecting to answer...

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><p><strong>AN: 11.14.11 :**** So tired and I really got to pee so I'll make this short and sweet. Yes, apologies for the long wait, but I had to rotate back and forth to the icky hospital cause my nana got cancer and everyone's flipping out...yeah, my house was crazy. (My nana's so cute. The whole time she was making these weirdd jokes, oh god.) Of course, Thank you to all who revied! You're words are OH so sweet and I love reading them! Warning, though, yes there miight be mistakes here and there because the end was rushed but hopefully it was worth the wait.**

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>Hospital Beds

-_"Out of all the things that could happen to you, this one takes the cake." Mustang grumbled. He poked at Ed's cheek, "Are you even listing to me?" "I try not to sometimes."_


	4. Hospital Beds

**Hospital Beds**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>** I own nothing.**

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><p>"<em>Colonel Roy Mustang speaking."<em> The voice – smooth and rough at the same time – gritted against Ed's ear as the ear piece was softly placed on the side of his head. He recognized the ridged voice almost immediately.

"...Colonel? Oh, this is your number..." That's right; Al had been hammering him about not remembering the Colonel's number during that time spent travelling. The numbers had been dancing around his mind ever since, clouding his brain, yet he never was able to put them in the right order to make it form Mustang's number. He didn't even remember dialing the number to begin with.

"_Who is this?" _The voice was aggravated, it seemed. Maybe he called at a wrong time, Ed thought. Ed looked down at his crimson midsection that he was trying so hard not to notice and shrugged inwardly. Oh well. Whatever Mustang was dealing with, this was definitely more important.

"Huh?" Ed asked. His memory was not cooperating with him and that was extremely frustrating. His mind was desperately trying to juggle consciousness, pain, nausea, and concentration at the same time. He played back what Mustang said and replied, "Oh, its Ed. Uh…sir."

"_Fullmetal?"_ Mustang's voice was too damn loud, Ed decided.

The man was speaking again, but it was hard to focus on his voice; now it sounded so soft and faraway. It felt as if the man was miles away from him, trying to yell his questions from that distance. His voice was almost soothing, too. It was rhythmic and soft, and slowly, it started to fade to a tiny mumble.

"_Fullmetal, I asked you a question,"_ Ed jumped at the sudden volume. "Huh?" He replied stupidly. Why the hell was this bastard yelling? Wait, what was the question? He probably wanted to know why he was calling. "Shit, right. Uh…I wanted to ask you a … a question."

Bad choice. Long sentences took too much effort, apparently. The pain was like fire now; like all the blood was being poured out was instead acid, burning his skin within touch. He steadied his breath slowly, realizing that, no, it would be more wise to not breath in deeply, unless he enjoyed being in a position that felt like being stabbed in the lung with a rigid blade. Which, for sure, he did not.

"_And what question would that be?"_

Right, question. Question, question, question. He had a specific question in mind that he wanted to ask Mustang. It popped into his head when he heard his voice over the phone; an early memory had sprung up in Ed's mind the second he had realized who he was talking to.

It was only a few days after his certification; the Colonel had been going over some rules and regulations about military protocol, procedures, and other things Ed had tuned out during the time. But one memory clung to his mind, refusing to let go. Something about codes.

"Remember that time," Ed began, choosing his words as carefully as he could in his condition. "When you gave me … those codes." He paused for a moment, trying to remember what he wanted to say, and then continued woozily, "For when something really bad happens?"

"_Yes, what about it?" _Mustang snapped, making Ed wince defensively.

"What was the…" Ed shivered and licked his lips. He tasted the sour blood and had to swallow down the wave of nausea that came with it. "…That one code for assassinations and all that. I can't remember it…" He blinked and thought bemusedly, _'can't seem to remember the important things, apparently."_

"_Code Black 814" _Mustang answered in a monotone voice.

"Oh yeah…that was it. Code Black 814…" Ed mumbled to himself out loud unknowingly. Well, he was justified to _not _remember; the Colonel had piled onto him all these weird military signals and codes, he was bound to forget them sooner or later.

"Huh?" Ed slurred when he heard Mustang's voice, muffled by the soft static that he could hear so clearly coming from the phone.

Mustang spoke again, this time more loudly, making Ed have to move the phone away from his ear to prevent the ache in his head to increase, _"Fullmetal. Are you or are you not issuing a Code Black 814 for an assassination attempt on you or any other military officer's life – yes or no?"_

He couldn't really understand what the man had said – the pounding of his heart against his ears had become so loud now, he could have easily mistaken them for orchestra drums – but he was able to hear the majority of the important words.

Actually, no. All he really registered was Mustang's last sentence, "_yes or no?", _and he dumbly chose the one that sounded the most accurate. "…Yes."

Again, he heard Mustang, his voice muffled by _something _only he heard. He did, in fact, hear the words _"Who" and "Involving", _though. Judging by his predicament, the only people involved here were himself and that psycho freak – _Dean? Drew? What was his name…? Din...Dan! Stupid name…– _and figuring that Mustang wouldn't ask something stupid about the other guy, he answered, "Uh…for me, I guess."

"_Someone tried to assassinate you?"_

Ed rolled his eyes. "Of course someone tried to assassinate me, you idiot. Why else would I call and waste my time trying to explain all this to you? Geez, were you _not_ paying attention to me, you lazy bastard!" But he didn't say that out loud. Just thinking it shortened his breath so instead, he settled answering with, "Uh-huh."

He gripped the phone tighter when he his hand began to violently shake. Ed continued, "Some guy came in and started attacking me..."

His automail made a small sporadic jerk and he lost his grip and the phone slipped from his grasp and onto his lap. He breathed a curse when he saw the splash of that disgusting red liquid on one end of the phone. "Stupid phone," he muttered, wiping the handset on the side of his shirt which wasn't covered in blood.

Right when he placed the phone back near his ear, Mustang's voice came through, asking, _"Are you hurt anywhere?" _

"I dunno…" Ed moaned annoyingly. Too many questions. Hurt? Everything hurt; it was getting hard pinpointing specifically what hurt and what did not and this idiot wanted to know exactly where it hurt. It was too much for him to bother with at the moment.

"My hand hurts a little," he mumbled, his eyes transfixed on the blood that was slowly reaching the bottom of his shoulder. "I don't think –"he paused and shivered involuntary. "I'm cold," he marveled.

"_Where are you?"_ Mustang demanded, but Ed paid no mind to his question, staring down at the red that seemed to ooze out from his entire body. He was mesmerized at how the pool of blood spread slowly, devouring everything in its path and painting its tracks in a beautiful crimson. _"Fullmetal, where are you?"_

"At the dorms," he murmured softly, his eyes gleaming with dreadful fascination.

His whole body was trembling horribly and engulfed in a kind of twisted numbness that Ed had trouble categorizing as soothing or excruciating. Everything around him was darkening, like he was slowly being pulled away from a dark tunnel's entrance. It took him a few seconds to grasp that that feeling was just his eyes drooping, but every time he would remind himself of that, he would quickly forget it.

"—_answer me…"_ The Colonel's phone sprung up out of nowhere, making Ed's eyes snap open. "Mmm…?"

"_I want you to stay where you are and don't move at all." _

Ed wanted to laugh. He tilted his head upward to gaze at his flesh arm, successfully pinned to the wall, and allowed himself a gruesome smile. He wanted to answer with a darkly sarcastic reply but settled with, "I can do that…"

He allowed his head to tilt back and softly hit the wall behind him. He wondered, what _would _happen if he closed his eyes, even if it was for a second? Would he fall asleep, and later wake up safe in a hospital? Or would he just sleep forever; never to wake up again? The exhaustion that was slamming onto him full force actually made him consider that choice. Sleep sounded so good right now, and the thought was seductively dancing around his head.

"—_anyone else – Where is Alphonse –" _

Ed's head jerked. "Al...? He...he...crap, I don't know. I don't know." Wasn't Al _just _here? He was! He was literally _just _here a few seconds ago. Ed's head ached terribly as he tried to recollect. "Where is he? I – I can't... shit, I can't remember! Colonel, w-where's Al?" He had a strongest urge to cry. He didn't know why, he just wanted to _cry_ and _scream. _Maybe it was the pain, but maybe it was more from the frustration of _not knowing anything._

"_Calm down, Fullmetal. I'm sure he'll turn up."_ Mustang said, obviously taking his own advice. How could that man sound so calm when all this shit was happening – happened! _"We'll be there shortly, so I need you to be patient, okay? Stay where you are and don't move, remember? Can you do that for me, Edward?"_

No. No, he needs to get out of here. Being here—_all alone _– it was too much. He didn't want to stay here any longer. The foul stench flooding the room reeked of death. A part of him _screamed _at him to suck it up and just leave before he loses the rest of his blood and slowly dies. Yes, yes, leave. That sounded like a fantastic idea.

But his rational side peacefully reminded him that there wasn't anything that he could do. As much as he hated to admit it, at this point he was pretty much as useless as the Colonel was on rainy days. If he removed the strange makeshift that pinned his arm, he would most likely bleed to death quicker or pass out from the pain.

He sighed and closed his eyes, "Okay."

"_Good, we'll be there in fifteen minutes at most."_

Ed's head whirled as he tried to remember how long fifteen minutes really was. Fifteen…that didn't sound that big of a number, Ed concluded after counting in his head. Just three fives, he reassured. Three five minutes, that sounded like a short wait. "Okay but ... Don't take long 'cause I'm really sleepy."

Sleepy. That was the understatement of the year. He actually caught himself when he unconsciously lowered his arm to rest. The task of just _holding _the phone up to his ear was tiring.

_"Stay awake, kid. Don't sleep, okay?"_

"But," Ed whined. "I'm tired..." He didn't care if he sounded pathetic – he just wanted to put his head down and close his eyes and slowly let the comforting darkness take him over.

_"Don't sleep_,_ Fullmetal!" _Mustang barked at him through the phone._ "That's an order. Are you going to disobey a direct order from your superior officer?" _

Ed smirked to himself. He's always pulling that card, the kid mused to himself. "Mmm, fine." He mumbled, and then added quickly, "Bastard."

"_Fifteen minutes."_

And then, the steady beeping from the handset was all Ed heard before he let the phone fall from his hand.

He was truly alone now.

Ed's shoulders trembled. He was completely and utterly alone, and his self-torture continued while he repeatedly reminded himself of that fact.

His fatigue was able to numb out the pain slightly – leaving it feeling like a pinching sensation rather than a stabbing one – and instead of focusing on the small trifling things (like how those blocks oddly looked like Armstrong's head or how if he stared at the pool of blood long enough, a face will appear) he just emptily stared at the space before him.

How long has it been since the phone call? A minute? Two? None?

Ed whimpered softly and his head lolled. That bastard should be here by now – _someone _should be here. He made a loud enough commotion that the whole city should have realized that something was wrong. Maybe they were all just sleeping or something.

Sleeping

Sleep

That sounded so relaxing. Maybe it was what he should be doing.

His body felt heavier that it had ever felt and his head felt like it was filled with air instead of a brain and skull – the sure signs of heavy blood loss. And how long could he last like this? Another three minutes? Two?

Instead of waiting for death to come, he should give it a head start. Just close his eyes and let it come.

But that annoying nagging voice at the back of his head _demanded _he keep his eyes open, no matter what. Keep it open, don't even blink! Just wait until that idiot gets here, and then you'll be able to sleep for as long as you want.

It was like having two extremely annoying people argue in each of his ears. And their arguing was beginning to sound like mindless shouting at this point. One screamed that he should stay awake and wait and the other shrieked that he should save himself the trouble and just sleep.

_Sleep!_

_Stay awake!_

'_Shut up!'_ Ed screamed inwardly.

Silence came afterward.

Ed swallowed and finally decided on which decision he should take. He decided that he'll close his eyes – _shut up and listen, dammit! –_ But only for a few seconds. Just let his eyes rest until he's had enough. Then he'll just open them again and wait. Easy.

_You won't wake up afterwards._

_A quicker death, then?_

Just. For. A. Few. Seconds.

So Edward closed his eyes, and he succumbed to the darkness' temptation without hesitation.

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><p>But his bliss was short lived and Ed awoke with a jerk when he heard faraway voices making their way through.<p>

The voices were distant and impossible to make out what they were saying exactly. Ed groaned pitifully at the disturbance and blinked back the fog of fatigue that clouded his vision. He grimaced when he noticed that he hadn't moved at all and was still in his destroyed dorm room.

His lopsided head rolled onto each shoulder until he was able to steady it. His stomach, he noticed, was making small spasms that felt like bubbles of pain were being popped. He cringed, and twisted his body as much as he could and when the convulsions ended, he sagged against the wall, panting heavily.

"Shit…" was all he could breathe out.

The footsteps grew louder and then stopped and then, again, began to louden. Ed picked up his head and stared blankly at the silhouettes that stood just outside the door frame. He blinked, trying to clear the haze in his eyes and was able to make out two black haired men and a blonde with pulled back hair.

His brain sluggishly identified the three people in blue military coats and his shoulders slumped in relief. He picked up his automail arm and gave a shaky wave.

"My God, Ed," Hughes breathed loudly. He was the first one to make his way toward the boy, sidestepping a few stray blocks, and crouched down to eye level with the kid.

"Took'y long enough…" Ed mumbled when he met with Hughes bright green eyes. "T'wasn' fifteen minutes."

Another person was kneeling in front of him now, next to Hughes, and their black orbs stared intensely into his own golden ones. "Lieutenant, go prepare for when the medical van arrives." Ah, Mustang. How could Ed forget _that _voice?

A hesitant "Sir," came as the reply and fading footsteps met with Ed's ears afterwards.

"Out of all the things that could happen to you, this one takes the cake." Mustang grumbled. He poked at Ed's cheek, "Are you even listing to me?" The boy closed his eyes shook his head defiantly.

"Wait, no. Ed, keep your eyes open," Hughes said hurriedly when he saw the boy's head beginning to tip. The boy only wrinkled his nose as a response.

Ed made a small whining noise when he felt someone harshly caress his head with rough fingers. He shook his head, "Stop … told'y was tired."

"Unless you want to sleep forever, I'd prefer you stay awake," Mustang's rough voice cut in. He heard the man make a small confirming noise and mumble, "No sign of concussion."

"I think concussions are the least of our problems at the moment, Roy," Hughes scowled flippantly. "I don't know if you noticed it yet but there's blood everywhere."

Mustang rolled his eyes at the man, "No, I didn't notice that, Hughes, because obviously I'm blind and – Fullmetal, I told you to keep your eyes open."

Ed groaned and peeled his eyelids apart to find that Mustang was hogging his line of vision.

Mustang frowned. There was so much damage that the fact that the kid was _still _conscience was a surprise all on it's on. But there was no time to marvel on the small miracles right now, and so Mustang pulled on his serious face – which is almost _never _off – and got to work.

First thing's first – stop the bleeding. Roy quickly pulled his jacket off and said to the boy, "Edward, look at me. I need you to tell me where you're bleeding from."

"M'stomach."

"Yes, I figured that much already. I need to know exactly where so I can put pressure on the wound."

Ed was silent for a few tiny seconds before he brought his hand up to point at a small part of his midsection, right below his right breast on the side of his chest. Mustang rolled up his jacket as tightly as he could and pressed it against the bleeding wound.

Immediately, Ed sharply hissed and recoiled away. "Dammit, don't do that," Mustang snapped, pushing the coat onto his stomach again. The boy flinched but obeyed. Mustang's frown deepened when he saw how sickly pale Ed's face was becoming. Droplets of sweat raced down his brow and Mustang bit his lip worriedly.

How much of his blood has he already lost? Has he lost enough that it would be considered too late? _Was it too late? _His composure was slowly being compromised by the worry that beamed from his eyes. This was never supposed to happen and it certainly was never something Mustang expected to happen – _especially _to Ed.

"Roy," he heard Maes say softly. "We need to move him before he…" He trailed off; uncomfortable with the mere thought that Edward might die.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat. Both men stood up but were stopped when they heard a small murmur coming from the injured alchemist.

"What was that?" Hughes asked.

Ed cleared his throat and said louder, "My hand."

Maes looked up to what Ed was referring to and immediately felt like an idiot, "Ah – crap, that's right. How did this even happen!" The man's hands were hovering around Ed's punctured arm, unsure if he should touch it or not.

"No time to discuss that; we need to pull it out quickly," Mustang said with a disturbing tranquility.

"_We?_ Are you insane? If we pull it out it'll just make him bleed out the rest of whatever blood he has left!"

"Yes, and if we leave it _in_ he'll just bleed as it is." Roy snapped back. "We don't many options here, Hughes. He's already in shock and that sure as hell isn't a good sign."

Maes groaned in evident frustration loudly, "But what if it hit a major artery? We don't know how to treat that kind of damage – hell, we don't even know if he could survive if we do!"

"Well, that's a risk we're just going to take," Roy grumbled, placing one hand on Ed's hand, inspecting the wound. It looked like some sort of shard made from stone; something similar to a small doe's growing antlers. Examining the wound more deeply – and ignoring Hughes annoying nagging – he hummed thoughtfully to himself.

The dagger shaped thing was, contradictory to what Roy initially thought, not pierced directly through the center of Ed's forearm but actually just a few centimeters away from the bone, just tugging on the flesh. Roy had the desperate urge to sit back and sigh in deep relief.

"—are you even listening? Roy!"

He leaned back and stared at Hughes, "I'm going to pull it out – no, shut up and listen! – and when I do, you take this," he handed Maes the white handkerchief that he kept in his breast pocket, "and tie it around his arm, understood."

The man swallowed tightly and the muscles of his jaw shifted, "are you sure about this?"

"It's our only option."

Maes sighed and nodded, running his hand through his hair. "Alright, fine. Go for it." At this point, convincing Roy otherwise would just be a waste of time, so it was just easier to go along.

But Hughes still doubted whether everything would turn out like they hoped. Ed was severely injured. He was already in shock, judging by the incisive shaking of his body that he noticed when he first set eyes on him, and there was no point reminding himself of the blood loss. The wounds, on the other hand, that was a big problem.

Stomach injuries were always the worse, and there was no telling how bad Ed was doing internally. But the sight of the crimson stream that trickled down the corner of his lips and down to his chin suggested that he wasn't doing so well.

Maes took the handkerchief and braced himself. Mustang nodded and lightly slapped Ed on the check, "Hey, you with us?"

"Mph," came the small reply. When Ed looked up, Mustang had to bite back a shiver at how _cold_ the kid's eyes seemed. They were clouded with a storm of pain and a haze of fatigue and a small mist of nausea, and his clammy skin surrounding his eyes made it seem far worse than it looked. He was hanging onto consciousness by a weak thread that appeared to be slowly breaking apart.

"Get ready; this is going to hurt," Mustang muttered, lacking anything better to say.

Ed squinted his eyes in confusion, not at all knowing what the Colonel was referring to. But when he did – realizing that the hand resting on his arm was indeed Mustang's – and quickly yelped, "Wait!" He started looking around on the floor before his eyes caught glimpse of a small piece of wood. Maes quirked an eyebrow when he watched Ed put the flat, wooden piece between his teeth. Ed bit hard on the object, sighed and then nodded, "M'kay. Do it quick."

Roy couldn't help but smile at the kid's bravery; how he was able to stay so strong when he was so battered was beyond him.

Mustang tightened his grip on the stoned dagger, causing Ed to tense, and gave a Maes a "You ready?" look. The man nodded, although his facial expression screamed opposite.

Then Mustang pulled the dagger out, wincing when he heard the wood beneath Ed's teeth crunch and a noise similar to a muffled scream escape his mouth. The dagger was coated in that horrid red liquid and the punctured spot in Ed's arm began to spill out with more blood.

Maes quickly and shakily pushed the handkerchief against Ed's arm, the fabric already drowning in red.

Ed, breathing deeply and erratically, began to sway from where he sat. His eyes stung from how tightly shut they were and he was afraid that if he opened them, he'd just pass out. He felt himself sliding against the wall but then being stopped by firm hands before hitting the ground.

The flaming inferno of pain that roared in his body like a ferocious dragon was like nothing he's ever felt before. His stomach muscles were _bubbling_ inside of him and his arm was pulsing with agony.

Hughes and Mustang were arguing again and following the conversation was one of the hardest things Ed's ever had to do. Their voices began escalating in volume; Hughes' sounded frantic while Mustang's was commanding and a kind of worried angry.

Then, something slipped itself under his legs and back and it took Ed a moment that what he thought were snakes were actually somebody's arms as they tried to lift him off the cold ground. Ed groaned in discomfort; all the jostling was upsetting his injuries further.

Somebody clicked their tongue in annoyance and retorted, "Quit squirming."

So he did. Ed let his body sag and relaxed himself. He was able to – miraculously – block out the agony by some distractive thinking.

He was still in shock by the idea of someone sending a freakin' _assassin _to get rid of him. From Ed knew before hand, hiring an assassin isn't very cheap. So why would someone go through the trouble of hiring someone when they could have tried to do it themselves? Maybe they were just scared, or weak. Or, maybe, just maybe, Edward Elric had the worst possible luck in existence.

A gush of cold win splashed onto his face and Ed buried himself into Mustang's chest. He felt that man's arms tighten underneath him and that instantly made him feel like nothing can hurt him.

"Sir, this way."

"Is that the medic's van?"

"Yes, sir. They're pulling in the stretcher as we speak…is he okay?"

"No. He's – hurt. Come on, let's hurry."

"Right."

Ed shook in Mustang's arms as the man hurriedly quickened his pace. With his ear placed against Mustang's chest, he was able to hear the other's heartbeats_. Bum – bum – bum – bum – bum – bum. _If there was anything that could prove that Mustang's calm exterior was a façade it would be the rhythm of his beating heart. It was too _fast _to be considered normal.

"Over here! Sir!"

"I take it you're the medic?"

"Yes, I –"

"Good, here. He needs medical attention as soon as possible, so leave now."

"I – I … yes, of course sir. Put him on the gurney."

Something else was supporting Ed's back now, something flat and smooth. When he felt the arms receding, he shivered from the cold and held onto one of Mustang's sleeves.

Mustang froze. The kid's eyes were now open and Roy could tell just by looking at those glassy eyes that the kid was on the brink of consciousness and probably had no idea what he was doing. He sighed and said softly in Ed's ear, "Don't worry. I'll be right behind you; you'll be fine."

Ed frowned though, "Promise."

Mustang blinked. "W-what?"

"Promise me t-that I'll be f-fine," he shivered.

"Ed, there's no —"

"Promise," the boy gasped harshly.

Roy stared at those luscious gold orbs and sighed. Finally, he tenderly said, "I promise."

Ed gave a tiny nod and closed his eyes, already unconscious before he was able to feel Mustang ruffle his hair.

"I assure you," the medic was saying when Roy straightened. "He'll be in good hands."

"I know he will be," Mustang said before turning to face the other man. "Hughes, go with Ed."

"But, what about you?" Hughes gaped.

"I'll be with you shortly. Just make sure that he's okay, I need to find Alphonse."

"Actually, sir," Hawkeye interrupted. "Alphonse is already here. I told him to wait for me by the car."

"Even better," Roy smirked.

Roy left with Hawkeye and Maes turned and hopped on board the medical van besides Ed. "You'll be fine, kiddo," Maes whispered softly, but Ed didn't hear him.

When Roy reached his car, he silenced the suit of armor before he could ask any questions and signaled him to get in the car. Riza took the driver's seat and when Roy took his own seat next to Al, they drove off.

"Before you ask me anything," Roy began, ignoring the frantic trembles of the armor and the twiddling of thumbs. "Your brother was severely injured by someone out for his blood and we won't know anything about his condition until he gets to the hospital."

Al made a sound similar to a cry of pain. "Oh, brother." He moaned, heartbreakingly. "B-but, is he alright? I didn't get to see him when they brought him out? Was he okay? Will he make it?"

Mustang was silent and worry throbbed deep within Al's soul. "Colonel," he whispered, pain lacing every syllable. "He will make it, r-right?"

Roy bit his tongue, "I…It's hard to tell. I'm sorry."

Al said nothing but bowed his head. Hawkeye looked over her shoulder briefly at the broken boy and smiled warmly, "Don't worry. I'm sure Edward's fine; he's gotten himself into worse situations before and still came out fine, right?"

Al chuckled sadly, "Yeah…"

But inside, Al was eating at himself. He shouldn't have left Ed alone, he shouldn't have. If he had just stayed, maybe he could have prevented all this. Poor brother. He really didn't deserve this; life was hard to begin with, and this just made it even worse.

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><p>They reached the hospital in record time only to be told that Ed had just been wheeled into the surgery room. They found Hughes and Havoc sitting outside of the door to the operation room, somberly waiting.<p>

"They said it'll take a few hours," Maes told Roy when he pulled him aside to talk in private.

"And his condition?" Mustang asked.

"Critical."

"I thought so." Mustang mumbled to himself. "Damn."

"They'll be sending out a nurse hourly to keep us up to date on his condition." Hughes said, trying to use that as reassurance.

"That's helpful, I suppose." He muttered.

"Did Al say anything?"

Roy sighed loudly and pushed his hair back, "Nothing that could be of any use to us. He said he just left Ed in the dorm to buy dinner. The brat had been cooped up his room studying that he would forget to eat."

Maes snorted, "That sounds like something he would do."

"Yeah. Alphonse also said that he hadn't noticed anything suspicious and that Edward hadn't done anything explicably bad enough to want someone to want him dead. So we're fresh out of any leads until the kid wakes up. _If _he wakes up."

Hughes looked onto his friend in sad type of pity. "Stop that," Roy softly snapped at him.

"Stop what?"

"That – _that! _Looking at me like I'm a kicked puppy or something."

"Roy, this is how I always look." He defended.

Mustang snorted. "No, that's how you look when you're about to say some sentimental crap."

Hughes frowned and looked up at Roy again.

"See, there it is," the Colonel accused. "You've got that stupid face on again."

Hughes sighed, "I was only going to tell you that you shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

"I'm not being hard on myself. In fact, I'm the exact opposite. I'm being … soft on myself."

"Soft?" Hughes asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, soft."

"Like a pillow, soft?" He teased.

"Yes, a pillow." Mustang answered, rolling his eyes.

"Soft soft or soft _soft?"_

"Is there any other kind of soft, Hughes?" He asked exasperated.

"Well, there _is _–"

"Please, just stop."

Hughes chuckled and finally said, "Alright, fine, fine." He patted Roy's back but before retreating to the waiting room, he said gently, "But don't beat yourself up for this, Roy. It's not your fault."

Mustang said nothing in return and simply followed Hughes a few moments later. He took his seat next to Jean and waited patiently for the hourly nurse.

She – the nurse, who Jean couldn't restrain himself from ogling at – came out a total of three times. Twice to report that Ed was still in critical condition and a third time to say that they've managed to stabilize him. That earned a round of sighs of relief from everybody.

After the third time, she came out fifteen minutes later to say that all the wounds have been stitched and patched and bandaged and that he will be moving to a recovery room.

"How long before he wakes up?" Roy asked the nurse while she led them all to Ed's room.

She smiled at him and said, "Approximately two to three days. The doctor will inform you on when he can be released. This way, sir."

He followed her to the door at the end of the hallway and she stopped and said, "We advise that only two people at a time should go in, just as a safety precaution."

Mustang looked back at his followers and said kindly, "Alphonse, go ahead." It was obvious the boy was desperately itching to go in and see his brother, unconscious or not. Al seemed to brighten and practically ran into the room.

"You're not going in, Boss?" Havoc asked when the Colonel remained where he was. "Not yet," Mustang said. "I'm waiting for the doctor to give me the run through of his condition."

The nurse looked lost for a bit when Mustang directed his gaze at her but then jumped, "Oh! – right. I'll go get him, then. E-excuse me." She nervously made her way down the hall and Jean snorted and bit back a laugh. "Nobody knows how to take a hint these days," Mustang sighed.

It wasn't until five minutes before Al poked his head out the door. "Colonel, oh!" He yelped when he saw the man looking at him puzzlingly. "I – ah – have you seen the nurse, or doctor or – ah – someone?"

Mustang caught on to the boy's nervous and hesitant tone immediately. "What's wrong?"

"Well, it's not that something is _wrong _exactly. Ah, well I don't really know if it can be considered something wrong, I – ah –"

"What is it, Alphonse?" Roy demanded much harsher than he intended.

"Brother's sort of…awake."

In a flash, Mustang made his way past Alphonse and through the door and was instantly hit with a wave of dread. The room was a soft off white color and the stench of antiseptics was powerful. The bed was directly in front of the door and beside it were some machines that made distinct beeping noises.

A tiny groan averted Mustang's attention from his surroundings and he made his way to the lump on the bed that steadily rose and fell.

Pity filled Roy's eyes when he saw the Fullmetal Alchemist. Ed was sickly pale and his skin was clammy and as white as the sheets that covered him. Heavy black bags sagged under his eyes and his bangs stuck to his sweat filled forehead.

Both of the kid's arms were placed at his side, and his flesh arm was heavily bandage, but even the white bandages couldn't fully conceal the damage as some blood seeped through the fabric. An I.V needle was punctured in his vein while another tube, this one red, was injected in the artery above the flat side of the elbow. He couldn't see Ed's stomach, but he was sure that the wound was mummified to the fullest with bindings.

But what really disturbed Roy was how hazy Ed's eyes were. Just by looking at the yellow orbs, Roy was able to figure out how much painkillers he was injected with. His eyes were brimming with unawareness and rimmed with red.

"C'nel," Ed slurred, his eyes flickering to the man.

"I don't think he's supposed to be awake," Roy heard Havoc whisper behind him. But he pretended not to hear him and put a shoulder on the boy, "Go to sleep, kid."

"No…" Ed moaned, his voice filled with drugged alert. "Hav'ta … tell you …"

"What is it?" Roy asked, his curiosity consuming him.

It looked as if Ed was having trouble forming words, or speaking for the matter for his mouth kept moving but no sound came out.

Realizing his voice fault, Ed gave up trying to speak and just raised his hand, pinched his thumb to his index finger and made a swirling motion in the air.

Mustang instantly recognized the gesture and turned around and barked, "Get me paper and a pencil, now!"

Hawkeye was the one who answered and she reverently turned and stalked out the room, quickly returning with the desired items. Handing it to her superior, Mustang took it swiftly and positioned the pencil in Ed's hand while he held the paper in front of the boy's hands.

Ed's eyes fluttered a few times before he began scrawling on the paper. The pencil made a few jerking motions before it began to waver and slipped from his automail hand and onto the bed. The last thing Ed managed to gasp out before he passed out was, "shit."

Mustang looked down at what Ed had written and blinked in surprise.

It was a transmutation circle.

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><p><strong>AN: 12.4.11 -**** This chapter was intended to be two separate ones but I saw it more fit to just be one (apologizes if the length was annoying) so I hope you enjoyed that treat. Thank you to everyone who alerted, favorited and reviewed the story so far, it really is lovely to see that people like my work! **

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>Playing Detective

_Mustang felt as if he was back in grade school; as if it was his mother rather than himself who was piling all the books on his desk, nagging for him to _study, study, study!

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><p><em><strong>Review, please!<strong>_


	5. Playing Detective

**Playing Detective**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Surprise.<strong>

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><p><strong><span>Warnings:<span> Vulgar language and spoilers. No surprises there**

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><p>Straight from the hospital, Mustang made his way to Eastern's library. He didn't stay to hear the doctor's diagnosis, nor did he answer any of Hughes' frantic questions. He simply took Hawkeye and the car and drove to the library, escaping all distractions and nuisances.<p>

The paper was clutched in his hand so tightly that it tore in a few places. The transmutation circle that Ed crudely drew was still scribbled on the sheet of paper and the frustration of not knowing what Ed was implying was eating at him.

"You don't know what it is?" Hawkeye asked from behind the wheel.

"No," Mustang sighed, annoyed. "I've seen it before – I know I have. I know I recognize the symbols from somewhere, but I just don't _know._" The conversation ended there.

Riza drove on, and in fifteen minutes they reached the library. It was small and quaint, barley competing with the one in Central. Mustang had only been to Central Library once, and he was in awe with how convenient and resourceful it was, not to mention huge. But nevertheless, Eastern's was reliable as well. Once a week, some of the books from Central would be delivered here for the satisfaction of the readers, and it was indeed satisfying.

Mustang sat himself down on one of the tables near the large window with almost a dozen large textbooks on alchemy by his side. The titles of each were written in an ancient language but the transmutation circles were easily readable in the eyes of an alchemist.

"Sir?" Hawkeye asked, her eyes fixated on the books. She gave up on interpreting the covers the moment she saw them. They were a whole other language to her.

Roy lay out the crumbled piece of paper with the transmutation on the table and smoothed it out with his hand. He pointed at it, "See that symbol?"

"The upside down triangle with the line?"

He nodded. "That's the Earth element. These circles over here are for manipulating the element but," his finger traced along a strange symbol – two circles that seemed to be overlapping with a line cutting them both, "I don't know what that it is with this thing added to it."

Hawkeye leaned in. She squinted her eyes to try to better understand it and suggested, "Perhaps Edward made a mistake while he drew it? Judging by the way he was..." She trailed off.

The Colonel shook his head, "No. This is a legitimate symbol. You can't draw something like this accidentally."

She said nothing and sat next to him. Roy pulled open one of the books and his eyes darted from side to side as he scanned it. The stillness of the library was more than comforting.

The book consisted of the basics of Earth alchemy. Being one of the potent elements, information about it was easy to obtain, and there was a load of information about it in books such as these. _Mustang felt as if he was back in grade school; as if it was his mother rather than himself who was piling all the books on his desk, nagging for him to _study, study, study! Ugh, that was a pain.

Mustang spent the better part of the night reading over the texts and scribbling down some notes. When closing time came for the library, he took the books home with him.

In his home, he continued to study it until he was succumbed by sleep, haunted by dreams that mocked his confusion. He woke up early the next morning with a start. Checking the time – only a few hours after the sun rose – he made his morning coffee and settled himself down at the small table that fit four, but was almost only occupied by one person.

Idly drinking the hot coffee, Mustang glared at the opposite wall. Stone manipulating. That's what the transmutation circle did. It manipulates silicon, aluminum, iron, calcium, sodium, potassium and all these other metallic elements. The book was helpful, if only to an extent.

But that still didn't solve anything. There could be hundreds of alchemists that use that same skill. Mastering earth based alchemy was the simplest and most basic one. It was the first thing a person learns when striving to become an alchemist. Mustang growled under his breath. With all his efforts, he had gained absolutely nothing from his research and it was starting to annoy him.

Mustang gripped the mug harder and held his head in his other hand. What does it _mean, _though? Even though he was occupied with researching the alchemical symbol, he couldn't keep his mind off the question that had been haunting him since the phone call last night.

Why?

Mustang clenched his teeth. Why would someone try to _assassinate _Edward?

He'd been asking himself that question over and over again and the answer never came up. A few answers did pop up occasionally, but they were irrational. Something in the lines of maybe Fullmetal had annoyed someone to the point where the only way to shut him up was to kill him was one of the answers that he brainstormed, but even his sleep deprived mind thought that was a little overboard – even if Ed was _that _annoying at times.

It just didn't make sense to him, though. If someone wanted to kill Ed, they must have had an elaborate plan first. This person – this alchemist, according to the circle here – knew exactly where Ed was living and when he would be back. They knew when Alphonse would have left the other brother alone and when Ed would be too distracted to realize something was amiss. They most likely have been scheming this for a long time.

But _why? _

What can somebody gain from killing that kid? Sure he was annoying and really aggravating and a pain in the ass at times but killing him would only cause more problems. But whoever tried to must have known this, because anyone in their right mind would know that killing a State Alchemist was a heavy crime that resulted in execution, and that was the lightest punishment.

So were they dealing with an intellectual, sinister plotter or an idiot out for revenge? And that's what angered Mustang the most – the fact that he _didn't know. _

The phone abruptly rung, making Mustang jump and drop the mug. It clattered on the table then smashed onto the floor, spilling its contents on the titled ground. Mustang cursed at the wasted coffee and grabbed a rag to clean the mess, but the phone rang again and he forgot about the spill and picked up the phone, instead.

He sighed when it was just Hawkeye, reminding him to get ready before she came to pick him up for work. Mustang asked her to pick up a cup of coffee on her way over for him and hung up.

* * *

><p>When Roy reached his office and settled himself behind the desk, Hawkeye came up to him and placed the coffee on his desk, saying, "Rough night, sir?"<p>

She probably noticed the bags under his eyes. He didn't need to see them to know they were there. That most likely gave it away, he thought. "You can say that. Did Havoc or Hughes come in yet?"

Hawkeye looked at the wall clock, "Still too early."

"Let me know when they do, then."

"Yes, sir."

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling fan that stood still. It was November, so they had no reason to turn it on. All it was useful for now was for light. Still, Mustang liked to look at it and stare at the dust that found its way on the blades.

He took a sip from his coffee and realized that he never cleaned up the mess from earlier. His mood sank even lower with that fact hovering around his mind. Huffing loudly, he took a look at the notes he'd made so far and scanned them without really taking anything in.

He grimaced at what he had written and wondered why he even wrote them in the first place. Questions bobbed around his mind, questions he didn't have answers to. It was frustrating. He buried himself in paperwork to take his mind off of things.

An hour passed and he heard the door open and people speaking. He recognized all of them and said, "You're late."

All four men that had entered looked like they were about to answer at the same time but Breda's voice got through first, "Sorry 'bout that. We were checking up on Ed."

"We heard what happened this morning," Fuery said sadly, as if disappointed he wasn't told about it the moment it happened.

Mustang didn't comment on that and asked instead, "Where's Havoc?"

"Right here," A muffled voice said. The man squeezed his way through the three others and saluted when he faced the Colonel.

"Report," Mustang said curtly. His brow pinched when he saw the man's haggard look. He must have been up all night, too.

"After you left, Elric slept the majority of the night. At dawn, he woke up again but said nothing coherent. He was still a little loopy from the drugs, so nobody really understood him. After that, he passed out again. At five in the morning, two officers from the Interrogations Bureau came to ask him some questions but were told to come tomorrow since Ed was in no shape to talk."

"Who's on watch now?" Mustang asked.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes sent Major Armstrong. Saw him when I was leaving."

Roy grimaced, secretly hoping that Alex wouldn't try to hug Ed when he saw him. Kid's got enough injuries to deal with.

"Oh yeah," Jean said, as if reading Mustang's mind. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope with no name but seemingly filled and handed it to the Colonel,"Doc wanted me to give this to you. Diagnosis and analysis and what-not on the Chief," He said off handily.

He took the envelope from the blonde and said, "Falman, I want you to stay at the hospital today, and probably tomorrow, too. If the interrogators come by again, I want you to be in the room and listen to everything they say and report back to me."

Breda scratched his head, "Why don't you just ask Al? I'm pretty positive that he's been in the room since the beginning."

Mustang shook his head. "Falman's memory is more reliable. I can depend on his words more."

At the small amount of praise, Falman stood up straighter and saluted, "Yes, sir!" before leaving the room.

Mustang dismissed them after the briefing, sending each one of them back to their respective desks. He took out the note with the transmutation circle and stared intently at it, hoping that if he looked at it long enough, the answer would appear instantaneously.

It was only after two days that Ed was able to stay conscience for longer than three hours and that he was deemed fit enough to be able to have more than two visitors in his room.

Upon receiving that news, Mustang wasted no time in getting to the hospital. With Hawkeye at his stead, he walked down the blank corridors until he reached the room 3B, the room which currently housed a certain vertically challenged genius.

Before Roy could push the door open, he heard from the other side a muffled, "_Shut up!" _followed by masculine giggles. Mustang sighed.

When he opened the door, his sight fell on the blonde in the bed, who's face was so flustered that he could have been mistaken for a patient with a very high fever. However, the bandages around his forearm and the one that wrapped around his midsection destroyed that thought completely. The kid probably _wished _he was just here because of a fever.

Falman and Havoc were sitting on chairs provided by the hospital against the wall, and they were biting hard on their lips in attempt to contain their laughs. Alphonse was propped against the wall besides the bed, his armor trembling with childish snickers.

At the sight of his superior officer, Ed's face turned a new shade of red and he quickly turned his head in attempt to hide his embarrassment, which only caused Falman and Havoc – Alphonse included – to giggle obnoxiously like a group of school girls.

Mustang heard Riza exhale loudly behind me, and he understood how she felt. But still, he was curious and had to ask. "What's going on?"

Ed's shoulder's stiffened visibly, making the other three laugh louder. "Well," Al said, regaining control of himself first. "We were just –"

"Nothing!" Ed exclaimed loudly, keeping the back of his head facing Mustang. "Nothing is going on!"

Mustang frowned at Ed's voice. It sounded parched and scratchy, and he slurred his words heavvily, but he said nothing of it.

"Aw, Chief, don't be like that," Havoc teased, relaxing in his chair. "I'm sure the Colonel would like to know what you said about -"

Ed swiftly interrupted him by throwing his pillow at the older man. Mustang didn't miss the boy wince afterward. "You shut up!" Ed yelled at the blonde. "You are not allowed to talk anymore! Neither one of you are!"

Like a stubborn child, Edward crossed his arms and lay down on the bed, his whole back now facing Mustang. The Colonel quirked his eyebrow at the behavior of his men.

Falman indulged him. "We were informing Edward of what he said last night when he woke up."

Mustang still didn't understand what was so funny about that. Alphonse added, "Brother was a little out of it from all the painkillers, so he was saying all these funny things."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the lump under the sheets growled.

"Of course you don't, you were drugged beyond comprehension," Falman said. "Although, we _were_ able to understand a few things you saying."

Ed's body cringed when all of three of them howled with laughter. He didn't turn around, though. Havoc wiped his eyes and said, "What was it you said about the cute little blond mechanic of yours...?"

At that, Ed shot up into a sitting position with wide, embarrassed eyes. His expression was truly amusing, Mustang thought.

"I believe his exact words were, '_she's purty'_" Falman mocked, slurring the word 'pretty' to pronounce it that way Ed probably did when he said it.

A vain throbbed in the kid's forehead, "You_ ass!_ Shut _up!_"

Al's armor shook as he laughed and joined in. "And, _'her eyes are purty, her hair his purty'_..."

"Al, shut up! I did _not _say that, you liar!" Ed said in a high pitched voice that failed to back up his words.

Havoc snorted loudly. "Don't forget, _'her face is the purtiest. It's purtier than purtier._"

"I hate you all!" Ed screeched as he sank in his bed and hid underneath his blankets. Havoc, Al and Falman were in hysterics. "I swear, the moment I get out of this hospital, I'm gonna beat the crap out of you with my automail!"

Mustang waited a few seconds for the two men and one suit of armor to let out all their laughter before he cleared his throat rather loudly, ultimately silencing everyone and shifting the mood to something more somber.

"As amusing as it is to hear that Fullmetal has finally found his hormones" – "_Hey! _You _bastard!" – _"That is not why we came here," Mustang announced, making his way to the bedridden blonde.

Edward glared at the Colonel pointedly, giving Roy a chance to look at the boy's eyes and see that they were still hazy and dull.

He turned and faced Falman, ignoring the boy's anger. "Report," he said simply to the gray haired man.

"There have been no significant instances or happenings while Major Armstrong was here," Falman began. "According to him, Major Elric had slept the whole day, only to be awakened for routine meals. The first day while I was here, Major Elric slept through the afternoon. By evening, Lieutenant Havoc had arrived and Major Elric had awoken and began conversing about … unusual topics."

A snort escaped Jean's throat. He bowed his head in order to hide his smile. Mustang ignored him and Falman continued, "He lasted a good hour before falling asleep, and staying asleep the rest of the night. The following day, two men from the Interrogation Bureau had arrived at 11:36AM and had requested permission to talk to Major Elric."

"Requested my ass..." Mustang heard Ed mutter from under the blankets.

"The doctor had asked the two men to come another time since Major Elric was still in need of more rest, however they refused and insisted they ask their questions now. The doctor relented and allowed them."

"Do you remember the names of those two?" Mustang asked.

Falman nodded solemnly, "Corporals Jennings and O'Neil." Then he added darkly, as if it was some terrible secret, "and they were young."

Mustang's eyes narrowed at the answer. "Corporals?" He muttered. "Why would they send such low ranking officers..."

Such a situation would call for the top interrogators to come and question Ed, rather than inexperienced greenhorns. The attempted assassination of a State Alchemist is indeed and high crime, so in order to squeeze out all the details out of Edward, they would need someone with more experienced, not a bunch of fresh out of the academy trainees. So why...

"What did they ask?" Roy said in a serious tone.

Ed chose that moment to pop out of the bed – his face no longer flustered with embarrassment, making it easy to see the paleness of his skin and the effect of the blood loss he had sustained – and scowled, "They were idiots! It was like talking to a bunch of five year olds. They kept asking the same stupid question over and over again and wouldn't let me sleep! I swear, those morons do _not _know when to take a hint and let a person sleep!"

Falman nodded and interpreted what Ed had said, "Indeed. They repeated the same questions, in which Major Elric responded with the same answers. It went on for about two hours before they took their leave and the Major had fainted."

Edward rolled his eyes and muttered angrily, "Don't say it like _that. _You're makin' me sound all girly and weak..."

Falman retrieved a small notepad from the pocket inside of his jacket and handed it to his superior officer, "The questions and answers are all written down here."

Mustang nodded and pocketed the notepad. "Very well, I'll look into it later." He looked at Havoc and then back at Falman, "Wait outside."

With no other further instructions, the two soldiers obeyed without hesitation. The door closed after them and Mustang took Jean's empty seat while Hawkeye took the one next to him.

The silence was suffocating.

Edward fidgeted under Mustang's stern gaze and muttered, "You gonna _interrogate _me, too?"

Mustang didn't say anything. He crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. His eyes never left Ed's golden ones.

The boy scowled and leaned back against the headboard of the bed, "I already answered those two jackasses' questions, so just go and read what Falman gave you."

He felt like he was being strangled when he realized that Hawkeye's equally stern glare was fixated on him. He swallowed. "If you guys aren't going to say anything then leave. I'm tired."

Mustang, without breaking eye contact, took out a crumbled piece of paper and threw it on Ed's bed. Curious, and a little pissed that no one was saying anything, Ed took the paper and unwrapped it from itself.

Mustang watched as the boy's eyes widened when he saw what was drawn on the small sheet. "Where'd you get this from?" He demanded.

"You," Hawkeye stated.

"Me?"

"You drew it," Hawkeye clarified. "When we first brought you in here, you drew it and then handed it to the Colonel, then, without any other information, promptly fainted."

Ed scowled and hissed in a barley audible voice, "Don't say it like _that..._"

"What is it?" Mustang asked, finally speaking up. "Because I have a feeling that you didn't mention _this _during the interrogation."

Ed frowned. He looked at the paper intently. Images flooded his vision. Debris and stones and blood everywhere. Ghost pain flooded his midsection as he relived the moment he was stabbed and he swallowed down the urge to hold his stomach. _So much blood..._

"What is it?" Mustang asked again.

Ed sighed irritably. "That guy that attacked me, he had a tattoo of this transmutation on the palms of his hand."

"He was an alchemist, then?"

Ed rolled his eyes, "obviously..."

"A skilled one?"

Ed hesitated, but then nodded. "He was alright."

"Alright?" Mustang repeated.

"His skills were good and all, but he wouldn't shut up for the most part and was careless." Ed said slowly, knowing that that would peak Mustang's interest.

The man's head perked up and he fought the urge to smirk. A careless person? That was good – _really _good. That means that they would spill precious information without even knowing it. That means that _Mustang _would get precious information and this whole fiasco would be over before it gets worse. Perfect. Careless, stupid people were the best kind of people and Mustang's favorite.

"What did he say?" Mustang asked. As if on cue, Riza pulled out a notepad of her own and a pen, preparing to write down everything.

Ed hummed thoughtfully and looked up to the ceiling, "My head's all foggy cause of these stupid painkillers so I don't remember everything well..."

"Tell me everything you remember, then," Mustang pushed.

"Well, I remember he said his name was Dan, but I'm pretty sure that was just a lame alias. Um, what else...? He was about your height with black hair – like straight, messy black hair that covered his eyes. He said that his dad taught him alchemy, I think..."

It wasn't enough, Mustang thought. This kind of information is close to useless. There could be hundreds of thousands of people named Dan who had messy black hair. Hell, his name probably isn't even Dan in the first place. He might as well just –

"Oh, and he used to be in the military."

Mustang's head perked up at that. "He used to be in the military? Is that what you said?"

Ed nodded confidently, but his confidence wasn't enough to convince Roy. "How do you know this? Did he say it?"

The oldest Elric scratched his head sheepishly, "Er, well, not exactly. By the way he was talking, it was pretty obvious that he was."

"You can't just assume things like that, Brother," Alphonse scolded. "This is serious!"

"Hey, I _am _being serious! I'm not making this crap up," Ed exclaimed, defending himself. "I used context clues. He kept saying these things about how the military was scared of him and how he hated them. From all the bullshit he was saying, it was pretty obvious that he held a grudge against them."

"If a person who was formally in the military is the person we're after," Riza said softly to Roy. "Then it would be much easier for us to find him."

Mustang nodded thoughtfully, "Which means his records are still in the files in the Information and Intellect Department..." He looked at Edward, his eyes clouded with seriousness, "Are you _sure _that your assumption that he was a former military officer is accurate enough to depend on?"

Without missing a beat, Ed nodded his head. "Positive."

"Very well," Mustang said, standing up. Hawkeye stood as well and pocketed her notepad. "Then this is what we'll be going with. If you think of anything else that is vital to the case, you tell _us _and _nobody else."_

Something in Mustang's tone hinted at something, and the blazing fire in Ed's eyes when he nodded said that he understood exactly what the Colonel was hinting at: Trust no one.

* * *

><p>Beneath the streets and buildings and pipes and sewers of Amestris lay a large, murky and spacious cave. Tubes and wires and strange technology infested the secretive layer, and sitting on a complex chair with strange machinery hooked to it was an elderly man with a beard the color of trampled snow.<p>

The old man looked down from his high chair and towards his children who gathered around him.

"A situation has occurred. A precious sacrifice of ours is being compromised," the elder man's voice boomed darkly. "This is unacceptable. In order for us to maintain the balance for our arrangement, the loss of one of our sacrifices is unwelcome. I will not have some pathetic human tamper with my plans so easily."

A voice roared from below. "That's not _my _problem, old man! That little pipsqueak's been fuckin' around like he's trying to kill himself. If he wants to, then let him die! Less problems for me!"

"Oh, keep quite, Envy," a smooth voice drawled out. "You never say anything helpful. Besides, its not like anyone's asking for _your _help. So useless..."

"You little _bitch! _Say one more stupid thing like that and I'll rip that pretty little smile right off your face!"

The second voice sighed, "So violent. A lifestyle like that and you're bound to stay that ugly for another hundred years.."

"I'll show _you _ugly once I beat the living _shit _out of you! After I'm done, you'll be nothing but a mound of flesh and blood–"

"_Enough!" _The elderly man shouted, the noise echoing against the walls, making them shudder and tremble. Satisfactory silence met his ears and his voice shook the cave, "I do not approve of such childish bickering in my presence!"

Another moment of murderous silence was met before he spoke again, "I have gathered you all to announce my intentions for how we shall deal with such a predicament." He waited, then said, "We will _not _interfere."

"_Not _interfere?" A young voice repeated. "What will that accomplish? The Elric brat will definitely die, then."

"You are not thinking, Pride," A difference, rough voice spoke. "If we interfere, that will raise suspicion. Right now, I doubt Elric nor his entourage will listen to what a third party will suggest. It will only raise _more_ suspicion."

"Tch."

"Precisely," The old man said. "Wrath's inquiry is correct to the fullest."

"Then what do you suggest, gramps? We sit on our asses and wait for them die? Three of our sacrifices are in this, you know! The midget, the tin can and Flame! Are you seriously thinking that we let them do whatever they want? Those three idiots would just jeopardize everything and ruin the plan entirely! You're senile to think this would work."

"Do not question my motives, child!" The old man raged. "If we interfere, Wrath's position in the plan will be the one that will be jeopardized, and we cannot risk that. It has been decided. All other objections are denied."

"Like I give a damn..."

The old man disregarded all the other occupants and closed his eyes. "That is how it will be done. You are free to go, Wrath. And be sure to give the Flame Alchemist his special mission."

* * *

><p>Once he got to the Information and Intellect Department in the bottom floor of the Eastern Command center, it was easy to get inside with Hughes on his side. The man had access to almost any room in this headquarters. Being in the investigations department had it's quirks, apparently.<p>

"Alright," Maes said after ending his conversation with one of the officers. "I can only get you about one hour clearance, so make good use of it."

Mustang thanked him and entered the room, Hughes staying out to make sure that nobody passes by and questions Mustang on his reasons for being in a restricted compartment only accessible to certain officers – which he wasn't.

The room was like one giant file cabinet, filled with a bunch of smaller file cabinets. The room was dimly lit – which was _oh so _helpful when looking for something – and dusty, as if it hasn't been touched in years.

Roy squeezed his way through the cabinets, careful not to topple the bins that contained files that were on top of them. He read all the labels for each basket, bin and cabinet: MIA, DIA, AWOL... Perhaps he was under AWOL. Pulling the compartment and scrolling his hand through the files, he pulled out all the files of alchemists who went AWOL. It was a _lot _of files.

Then he categorized them, pulling out all the male AWOL alchemists with first names or last names starting with D. The pile was large. Skimming through them, he separated all of the files that contained a person with black hair. His pile was reduced just barely. With the basic details set, he picked up the first file, DENNIS AMTZIS, and read it, looking for his alchemy, whether it was stone manipulation or not.

The good thing about these files was that, unlike Fullmetal, who was the special case that didn't use a transmutation circle, all of these alchemists had their trademark transmutation circle drawn on their records. This made Mustang's search a bit more easier.

However, it was useless. None of these men's alchemy matched that of this Dan's. Mustang was sitting on the floor for over an hour looking through these files, only to meet with disappointment. After reading ALEXANDER DEFIGAROU'S file and how his alchemical skill was manipulating water, Mustang hissed a curse and threw the file across the room in frustration. "Dammit, _Dammit!" _The papers flew like wild birds from the folder, but Mustang payed no mind to it.

Useless. Goddamn _useless!_

Roy leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, controlling his temper. There has to be _something _in here. At least a hint or something would be helpful. He let out a loud sigh and sagged his shoulders.

Hughes poked his head through the door, reminding Roy of the time limit.

"Just give me more time." He said simply, and Maes let him be.

Another sigh left him. He looked at the files and grimaced. He's going to need a _lot _more time to finish going through all these. Lovely. He looked through all the soldiers who were listed MIA next, however, that earned him the same results as the other: nothing. Mustang really wished he had a cup of coffee right now.

Hughes poked his head in again and looked at Mustang, slouched against the wall. "No luck, I guess?"

Mustang let out a sarcastic snort, "You tell me."

A sad smile crossed his features and he sat beside his friend, his legs pulled up. "What a mess," Maes sighed.

"You would think they could at least hire someone to clean this place up," Mustang muttered.

Maes chuckled and shook his head. "Not this room, I meant this whole situation. It's just one, big, giant pile of … messy mess."

"I see your daughter's vocabulary is starting to influence you."

"You know what I mean," Hughes said, rolling his eyes.

Roy nodded, "You have no idea." He ran his hand through his hair, scowling at the realization that his hand had dust on it and that his hair was now ruined. "How did it even get this bad. He was just supposed to join the military to get his and Alphonse's bodies back, not get entangled in some assassination plot with the crazy former military guy running it in attempt to do God knows what."

"Well, this is Ed we're talking about," Hughes said.

"And that's what I'm worried about, that stupid little brat. I told to _not _be brash, to not do anything irrational, to _think _before he says or does something and to always, _always, _keep out of trouble! Is it really so hard to listen to a few simple rules?"

"Like I said, this _is _Ed we're talking about," Maes said with a sad smile.

The Colonel groaned loudly, "That idiot..."

"Don't stress yourself over it. This thing will be set and done before you know it and when that happens, you can yell at Ed all you want."

"Not before I find the bastard that started this whole thing. I swear, because of this one guy, I had absolutely no sleep!"

Hughes laughed at that, "Ha! That guy is as good as dead, then!"

Mustang smiled. Oh yes, there will be hell to pay for sure. But suddenly, Mustang froze. He turned his head so fast that his neck almost snapped and looked Maes straight in the eyes, "Hughes, say that again!"

"...Say what again?"

"What you just said before!" Mustang said, frantic excitement dancing in his wide eyes.

Maes' face scrunched up in confusion and thought, "Uh, that that guy is as good as dead...?"

Roy's face beamed, "That's it!" He dove towards one one of the cabins on the floor and began pulling out files and spilling out paper from folders.

"Hey – hey! Roy, what are you doing? What'd you figure out?"

He stopped with a folder tight in his grasp and turned to Maes, "What you just said – that he's as good as dead. You're a damn_ genius, _Hughes!"

"Oh, well, thanks...I _am _quite the intelligent person …. but what did I do?" He said a bit sheepishly.

"Dead – _dead. _This whole time I've been looking for people who were missing in action or AWOL. Fullmetal said that this guy was formerly in the military, so naturally you would think it was someone who fled during war or went missing. But what if it was someone who _faked _his death?"

"How can you be so sure about that, though?" Maes asked, neatly putting back all the folders and files Mustang had been throwing around.

"Because, you have to consider the fact that this guy had planned everything. He knew where Fullmetal was staying, and knew exactly when he would be alone and for how long. So who's to say that he didn't have a plan to escape the military by faking his death?" Mustang's eyes were brimming with a scary form of determination. He picked up more files and then closed them, throwing them away when they weren't helpful.

"But isn't that going a little all out just to kill a kid like Ed?" Hughes asked. "I mean, yeah, sure, he's a State Alchemist and all, but still … its a bit extravagant ..."

"Exactly," Mustang said, his voice regaining its normal tone and volume. "It is a little over the top just to have him assassinated. Which begs the question, what if this isn't just an angry act of revenge."

"Then what else can it be?"

At that, Mustang smirked. "It's a revenge plot, but it has nothing to do with Fullmetal at all."

* * *

><p>Edward hated his nurse. Her name was Agnes, but sometimes he would accidentally <em>slip <em>and call her asshole. A simple mistake. They both sound the same. It fit her better, anyways.

That dumb old hag treated him like a child and asked him questions slowly and loudly, as if she were speaking to her grandchild who just grew their first tooth.

Oh, he hated that. The first time she came in, she had asked Ed if he wanted juice and obviously, he said yes, because who wouldn't want free juice? When she came back in, she handed him a small kiddie juice box with cartoons drawn dancing all over it and a bendy straw. The logo for the juice was _drink more, grow tall!_

He exploded at her, threw the juice at her face and then passed out – not _fainted, _that sounds pathetic – from his own outburst. The next time he woke up, Al had scolded him for a good half hour about proper etiquette and manners, to which he had passed out again twenty minutes later. In reality, though, he had just purposely fell asleep to avoid hearing the rest of Al's lecture.

Since then, he and his nurse, assho-Agnes, were not on friendly terms. She would come in with his dinner, and Ed would glare at her until she left. However, much to his annoyance, his dinner tray always contained that same juice box, with a little note next to it, that read, "_enjoy, ant."_

Al would sigh – or what was equivalent to a sigh coming from a suit of armor – whenever Ed would have a fit at seeing the juice box and the note. It was amusing until his trashing would cause him to reopen his wounds, ultimately sending Agnes back in, who always had a triumphal smirk on her face while rebinding him.

The funniest part was that Ed still drank the juice.

It was evening now. The dinner tray was on his lap and the note was crumbled before he could read it. He was enjoying his juice – it was cherry flavored, tasted like medicine. Did they drug these juice boxes? – when the door was slammed open, making Ed accidentally swallow his straw, choke on it briefly, and cough it out while gasping for air.

"It's Piercing!" Was the first thing Mustang shouted when he barged into Ed's room, waving a folder in his hand.

"_Mustang! _You asshole! I almost _died, _you bastard!" Ed roared, flailing his arms around. Al patted his back softly, murmuring, "no need to get all dramatic, Brother."

"Dmitri Adams Nackrose!" Mustang shouted, throwing the folder on Ed's bed.

"What are you on about?" Ed muttered, picking up the folder gingerly.

"Dan. That's not a name, that's his initials. D.A.N. Dmitri Adams Nackrose, also known as the Piercing Alchemist. Died about ten years ago in Ishval during the war inside a burning hut. Body never found, said to be burned to crisp." Mustang gasped, out of breath with a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead. "The perfect way to fake a death. No body, no evidence."

"Are you saying that this Dmitri person is the guy who attacked Brother?" Al asked incredulously. "But you just said he died..."

"He faked his death," Mustang clarified. "He was alive this whole time, waiting for an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what...?" Al asked shyly.

Roy opened his mouth to answer, but then suddenly remembered, "Crap, I left Hughes." He turned to leave but then stopped and thought of a better idea. "Alphonse, can you run down to the parking lot and help Hughes bring up a few boxes? I forgot I left him in the car."

"Oh – uh, yeah, sure!" Al said, pushing past the older man and out the door.

Mustang kept his gaze at Edward, regaining his breath and controlling his adrenaline at his fine. After another deep intake of breath, he said calmly, "The last page has a picture of his transmutation circle. Is it the same one as the guy who attacked you had?"

Ed flipped to the back page before answering. He studied the contents on the page before answering with a big smile, "Yeah, it looks just like his!"

"Page eleven has a picture of him. Is it the same person?" Mustang asked slowly, his voice dripping with dangerous seriousness. Finally, _finally, _they were heading somewhere.

Ed pushed back a few pages to get to page eleven, and when he saw the picture, his eyes widened significantly. But before he could answer, the window across the room shattered as bullets from outside punctured it, shooting through the room. And all hell broke loose.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-3/12/12**

**Wow, sorry for the wait. I was waiting for a day when I had no homework so I could write this. Took a while...sorry! Hope you liked this chapter, it was EXTRA long. Fifteen pages long! Wow! Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for the reviews/favs/alerts! You guys are awesome. Cheers.**

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter:<strong> The Great Escape

- _This was definitely _not _a safe way to drive, especially with a kid on board. Oh well. _


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